I Remembered a Storm tossed Night
by Nomi001
Summary: It was all so near yet so far, like the twinkle of a star to a child. And it all started on a storm tossed night, and may all involved soon see light. SIMPLE SUMMARY Joe lost memory, Will he remember on time? Or will Frank pay the price?
1. Author's Note

**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Author's Note **

First and foremost, I would like to thank all the readers who have had the patience to survive my initial confusing writing to when the plot started to materialize. Now that I looked back on it, it really was an amazing thing that so many of you actually made it up to that point. A tribute to your patience; I lift a toast to you.

I have tried to rectify my mistakes, with some minor cosmetic changes and merging of chapters. I am not sure how successful I was. But I hope you will find it a clearer presentation than before.

For JD, who pointed out that I have to let the reader know that this story was about the brothers by chapter two, latest three, else they lost interest. That was good advice, and I have tried to do just that by merging the chapters and added some minor modifications. So it is now clear who is who by chapter two.

For Red Hardy, I absolutely appreciated your comments on the POV aspects on my writing. What you said was totally correct. I wished I could fix it. But I could not, not at the moment. So I have to do this instead. From now on, all Joe's POV will be first person narrative, using 'I'. Frank's POV will be in third person limited omniscient [1. All other characters' POV will be in third person omniscient [2. And thanks also for pointing out that Mother's Day always falls on Sunday. I did not know that and had assumed that it fell on a weekday for the sake of this story. I will make the necessary note at the relevant chapter.

To Liz, thank you for being my sounding board and also for your wonderful suggestions. And also for your help in drawing out Frank's character and personality.

To Metascrawler and RagnaIce: It is still cold and wet and dreary over here. And I do want more than the occasional ray of sunshine that comes my way.

Thanks again to all reviewers, your comments were great. And I hope you will continue to enjoy this story as it unfolds.

Cheers, Jolly.

Ps: "NB: I am not sure if things are starting to clear up. Once I interviewed  
Tsai Ming Liang, an award winning film director. He said he do not believe in  
telling the audience everything, but let the audience think for themselves. I  
thought I'd tried something similar - is this an experimental writing gone  
wrong? Perhaps one should never make the reader work too hard ... next chapter  
will have the proper names in the proper place to definitely clear up who is  
who in chapter one and two..." lol - I admit this experimental didn't quite work out... but then it stills intrigues me... so just wondering, would anyone be interested in a story that will let you play this guessing which brother game until the last chapter when the answer will be known? Like for a short story, no more than 5 or 6 chapters? pls pm if interested.


	2. Chapter 1

**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 1 **

_Again it was raining outside. What a miserable, cold and wet night! I was in a bad mood, I could not write. And then along came this Storm. It stole my stories from me, took over what was meant to be. But I dislike wasting words when they wanted to flow. So I wrote them all down, just to see where it goes. Like I said, it was a not very nice night out there, so who could blame the type of words that flow? -Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

I remembered a storm-tossed night. It was dark and scary. I felt like I was drowning. The waves were a multitude of arms striving to pull me under. I fought and I fought and I fought, but it was hopeless. A mere mortal could not dream of winning this battle against the wrath of nature. I did not know why I was there. I did not know how I got there. But I knew it was real. It was not a dream. The memories of that night still gave me nightmares. And those dreams did not fade with the passage of time.

Perhaps it was because of what lies beyond. I could not breach that wall. Or was it because I dared not venture beyond that? Was I a coward? What was it I feared on the other side?

No. I never believed myself a coward. Who would blame a man for wanting to remember his past for himself? My parents had been great. They were most supportive at a time when I was so vulnerable, even though I remembered them not. They were patient, they were kind, even when I got frustrated and lost my temper.

They showed me my childhood photographs, and told me stories of my past. They all felt so alien. I supposed that was only natural. It was their memories of me, seen through their eyes, felt through their hearts, filled with the bias so natural for any parents towards their child. But at least I knew without doubt that they loved me. And now, after all these years, I knew I loved them too.

Perhaps the doctors were right. That the head injury I sustained that night had caused the memory loss. They had said that the damage was almost definitely permanent. I would never remember. But my subconscious desire to remember would always take me back to that dark night in my dreams.

But they were wrong in that those dreams would fade with time. It's been six years, and the memories were still as vivid. I guessed my parents were right on about my stubborn nature. I wanted to remember, more so now than ever before.

Because now I am alone.

I had friends aplenty. But that was different from having a family.

Bending down, I placed the flowers on the headstones of my parents' graves. Those were mom's favorite. I bought a bunch for her every mother's day, while dad never failed to order a bouquet for her every birthday. I watched the bright yellow petals flutter in the morning breeze. The memorial service was over. Everyone else had left.

Except me.

I stood before my parents' graves and wished I had gone with them. Then I would not be alone now.

They were killed in a freak boating accident. I smiled a sad smile. They loved their adventures. How many kids could boast of parents who would join them on dare-devil stunts like sky-diving? During my years at college, I spent one of my school vacations each year on an adventure trip with them. We went rock climbing in the Grand Canyon in the United States. We went on a Safari trip into the heart of Africa. We went trekking into the mountains of South America and visited the ruins of Machu Picchu. On our last trip together after my graduation, my girlfriend came along with us. We went cross country skiing across the Swiss Alps.

That was how remarkable they were. And sailing the high seas was their favorite past time. They would spend weeks in their private yatch in the ocean defying the forces of nature. Apparently, that was how I got injured. And that was how they died, trapped in a watery grave in the storm-tossed seas. But I would not remember them that way. They lived life to the fullest. They died doing what they loved most. I should be happy for them. I would be happy for them. They would have no regrets. So I would have none too. In honor of their memory.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew that was my wife. I proposed soon after that cross country skiing trip. We got married and finished our honeymoon before I started my first full-time job. I was wrong after all. I still had a family.

I turned and looked into her soft brown eyes. It was as always full of the love she had for me. Her slender fingers reached for my face, and gently wiped away my tears.

I was not even aware there were tears. When did I start crying?

I reached for her hand, now wet with my tears, kissed those loving fingers, and held them to my heart. I was so glad I found her, and was indeed blessed that she loved me in return.

We have to go, she said in her soft gentle voice.

I nodded.

Turning, I took another look at the headstones. It would be hard, going on without them.

But go on I would, and I would live life to the fullest too. In memory of them.

**_HBHBHB _**

He remembered that storm-tossed night. How could he forget? That was the night his brother died.

No, he amended. That was the night he let his brother die.

It was cold. It was wet. And it was windy. He could still remember how the debris and dust filled wind scrapped against his face like hard bristles. He could still hear the howling winds in his eardrums. He could not hold on. And he had watched helplessly as his brother fell further and further away from him in slow motion, until he was swallowed up by the hungry roiling waves.

That happened this day six long years ago. But the memory was still so vivid it was like it happened just yesterday.

He knelt before the cold hard marble gravestone, his fingers slowly and lovingly tracing the letters that spelt his brother's name. His brother had just turned eighteen when he died. Such a short time to enjoy his transition to legal adulthood! And his mind wondered on its own back to that fateful night. He could still feel his brother's hand gripping his. He could remember terror and desperation in those eyes as the hold began to slip, bit by bit. He called out for him to hold on. He would think of something. He willed his brother to believe in him even as he knew in his heart, he had nothing. He could not protect his brother this time. They were alone out there on the cliff's edge that stormy night.

No, there was a third person who was unconscious at that time. That man was knocked out during the scuffle when he tried to kill them both.

The painful total recall continued its ruthless journey through his mind. The next few seconds flashed by in great detail. That short instant in time had felt like an hour to him. For he had started to slip off the cliff as well, dragged by his brother's weight. He remembered the horror he felt at that moment. The little bush that he was holding on to started to give. And his brother had realized that whatever he was holding on to could not support both their weight. There was nothing more terrifying to him than when his brother gave him that little smile of love and resignation. And his brother had let go, even as he had tightened his grip. It did not take long for earth's cruel gravity to pull his brother from his slippery hands down into the dark churning waters below. He saw his brother mouth the words, _'live, for me…'_ Then his brother was gone, taken by the sea.

And he had watched and he watched and he watched. But his brother never surfaced.

Then he felt the little bush gave, and he too started the downward descend into darkness. He did not want to let his brother down by dying, but all his reserves of energy had been depleted in the bid to hold on to his brother just moments before. He closed his eyes and prepared himself to hit the waters.

_'Ah brother, we'll still be together, in death as in life…' _

He jerked to a stop. Someone had caught hold of him by his legs and was even then pulling him from death's edge. When he was a safe distance away from the edge of the cliff, he turned to face his rescuer. He had no idea what to feel. Grateful for the rescue? Or anger for taking him away from his brother?

Then he saw who saved him. Fury overwhelmed him. It was the man who had tried to kill them both. But why? Why did the killer want to save him?

That man laughed hysterically, his demented laughter carried over the howling winds and the lashing rain.

"I wanted to kill you two for causing the death of my baby brother… I thought I failed… you two managed to knock me out…" That man had screamed that information at him.

"What happened after that?" That man asked mockingly of him. "Let me guess, your brother must have slipped…"

That man laughed again. He laughed so hard he was rolling on the ground, his hands held protectively around his belly.

"God is fair after all… and I saved you. I SAVED you! This is so much better. Now you can spend the rest of your days without your brother, just like I have to..."

More demented laughter.

All these while he could only listen to that man bragged and raged. He was too exhausted to move.

That man struggled onto his feet, failed and fell back onto his knees. And then he started to crawl away.

The wind carried back that man's last words of farewell: "God is fair…"

All around him, the storm raged on.

It was police officer Con Riley who found him at the cliffs many hours later. The storm had died down and it was almost dawn. He was sent to Bayport hospital via a helicopter. He was severely hypothermic, and developed a serious case of pneumonia.

When he finally came to three days later, his parents told him his brother was dead. He could not meet their eyes, his guilt and his shame rest heavy on his scarred soul. He failed to protect his brother. The coast guard had searched and searched, but the body was never found. That was not surprising; for the sea was known to keep what it took.

Another three days later, he had stood with his parents at the memorial service for his brother. And he grieved. But he would live on, for his brother.

And he did.


	3. Chapter 2

**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 2 **

_I really disliked rainy weather; it was just such a damper on the soul. And I really did not like this, but these silly words just continued to roll. On a dark and rainy day, the story teller cometh. Only that it wasn't the story I wanted. -Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

It was my parents' penthouse apartment. But they weren't here anymore. Yet I could not help but to see them in every niche and corner. There was my father in the living room enjoying his favorite movies on his personal home theatre. My mother was in the crafts room upstairs, knitting another sweater for me, even though I had dozens of them already. My father in the study on the computer surfing the web. And my mother in the kitchen preparing dinner.

My mother really could not cook. But we all ate her cooking anyway, because of the time and effort she always invested in it. I always said to her _'my mother's the best cook in the world'_. That statement rang true somehow. I wondered why?

I walked back into the living room. My wife was on the floor by the shelves sorting through the photo albums. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun came through the window and illuminated her brown hair turning it almost golden. But it was her soft brown eyes that captivated me from the first day I met her. Her zest for life and appetite for adventures matched my own. Later, as I found out what a wonderful and caring person she also was, I fell in love with her.

My thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. I exchanged a look with my wife. Neither of us was expecting guests. I shrugged and went to get the door. The two men at the door introduced themselves as detectives from the London Metropolitan Police. I was surprised. Why were they here?

They introduced themselves as Detective James Conner and Detective Maggie Lam. And they were here apparently in regard to the strange circumstances surrounding my parents' death. I was mystified. They died when their yatch overturned in a tropical typhoon at sea. What was so mysterious about that? Nevertheless, I was curious. My gut instinct was screaming something at me I know not what. Only that it was a familiar feel, yet I could not recall ever feeling like that, not in the last six years.

Again, I wished I could breach the walls of the storm-tossed night to access what lies beyond. But the walls loomed high and forbidding.

"Paul Schwarz," I said and welcomed them into the house.

"My wife, Ehlana," I did the introductions.

They smiled and shook hands with her.

"Did you notice anything unusual about your parents before they left for that last sailing trip?" Detective Lam asked.

I frowned. Now that I thought about it, mom was a little flighty the few days before my parents left for that fateful trip. And never in the last six years did I recall my parents just packing up and going for a trip within days. Sailing expeditions usually take them at least a fortnight of preparation. I had assumed they had been planning but had forgotten to tell me about it… was I wrong?

"No… not really…" I said. "Though I must say that trip does seem a little sudden."

The detectives looked very interested, "If you could please explain that…"

"Well, it takes at least a fortnight to prepare for such a trip. And I usually know about it long before hand so I can help with the preparations. Yet this time, mom called me just before they left…"I elaborated.

Suddenly, the last few days before my parents left for that trip replayed itself in my mind. I started to pick up all the little instances that was unusual, and realized that the detectives were right. There was a distinct possibility that there are strange circumstances surrounding my parents' death. How I picked up those instances and analyzed those in mere seconds surprised me. It had felt so natural, as if it was second nature to me…

I shook myself out of that line of thought for the moment. First, I must find out what those detectives knew. I could go figure myself out later. If my parents did not die naturally, I wanted to know, I needed to know.

"They are my parents," I told the detectives, "If there is anything untoward about their demise, I have the right to know."

They looked at me for a moment, sympathy clear in their eyes. I looked away. I did not need that. I could feel my wife's arms around my shoulders, and I leaned back against her for comfort.

"Please," she beseeched them, "they are our parents. We won't ask for unnecessary details. And we will not interfere with your investigations… just tell us what you can, and whether our parents died naturally."

"As you know, Paul, the yatch was found overturned with your mother's body trapped beneath it. Your father's body was not found, and presumed lost at sea. It was assumed that your parents and the yatch did not survive the storm they ran into the previous night," Detective Conner finally said.

_'Another stormy night to remember…'_ I thought to myself.

"However, given that your father is the son of a shipping magnate, protocol dictates some preliminary examination. Our findings indicated strong possibility of foul play…" Detective Lam continued. "There were indications that the yatch was tampered with, and several close friends of your parents mentioned that they were unusually quiet or distracted during those last few days…"

She was interrupted by a number of sharp raps on the door.

My wife excused herself to get the door, and soon returned with my grandfather, Reginald Schwarz. He was sixty-eight this year, and was very robust for his age. His carriage proud and the aura of power swirled about him. He was an extremely successful businessman, and was used to giving orders and expecting it to be carried out posthaste. My grandfather was also a very private person. While he was not opposed to shows of affections between family members in private, he shielded away from those in public, preferring to present a tough exterior to everyone else.

He tapped his heavy walking cane in displeasure at the two guests in the house, and waited for an explanation.

Both detectives had stood up respectfully at his entrance. It never failed to amaze me how grandpa could have that effect on people. I supposed it was a lifetime of experience. Again I did the introductions, and my grandpa gave them both a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"I wasn't expecting you, Grandpa Reg," I said.

"Of course not, Paul," he responded in his usual gruff voice. "I came to see how you are coping."

Unfortunately for the detectives, his displeasure at them grew when he heard of the reasons for their presence. It was unconscionable of them to intrude on people's moment of grief; he told them in a curt tone. And then he sent them packing. But not before they got him to agree to an interview the next day. I admired them for managing to get that out of grandpa Reg.

After the detectives left, the three of us sat down for some family time. We talked about the memories of happier days. Grandpa Reg entertained us with some tales of my father's childhood misadventures. It was good distraction.

Much later, he asked if I would be willing to go back and helped him with the family business. I said that I preferred to work elsewhere for experience first, and he said he understood and respected my views. However, the circumstances had changed, and he needed me. And he was an old man who wanted his grandson near him. I hesitated. Then told him I understood, and will seriously consider his offer. And I would have to finish up the project I was currently working on at my current job first. He gave me an approving smile and said he was proud of the man I had become. I blushed in pleasure. That was high praise indeed from that old man.

Then we left together for dinner.

**_HBHBHB _**

He was driving to his parents' place, the house in which he had grown up in. Next to him on the passenger seat of the car laid two bouguets of a dozen Vivaldi Roses. It was mom's favorite. He smiled wistfully as he remembered how he and his brother used to buy a dozen of those roses each for their mom every Mother's Day. And mom would cook a scrumptious gourmet dinner to rival the best restaurant in New York.

But his brother was no longer with them. He died over six years hence, on a storm-tossed night. And he had kept that tradition, buying two dozens of them on behalf of his brother every Mother's Day since.

It's been over six years, but he still missed his brother as if he was gone only yesterday. There were times when he thought he felt his brother's presence looking over his shoulder and making sure that he was eating and living fine. That's his brother, always caring for others above himself.

_'Are you out there looking over and watching out for me, brother mine? Then you know I never forgot you…' _

He had kept his word and had lived on. But it was hard. The first year was the hardest, having to learn to do things alone, and not having his brother to baby over. He had taken up the scholarship to do law at Harvard, and had returned to help his dad's detective business rather than work at the few prestigious law firms that wanted to hire him upon his graduation. And he was almost done with the diploma in Computer Systems Engineering by distance learning.

And they were currently on a rather big case dealing with potential fraud over international borders. If only his brother was alive and working on this case with them. It was the most intriguing case he got to work on, and he had a feeling the whole thing was much bigger than anticipated. The set up for money laundering was complex and brilliant. He would have missed it if not for the new mathematical algorithm he was testing out to sift out unusual money movements. He wished his brother was there to help them. His brother always had a knack for patterns even as he had the knack for numbers. They both made a good team.

Mom had become a lot quieter and more anxious about him since his brother's death. She had hoped he would become a lawyer, but had respected his career decision. He wished he could put her mind at ease, but investigating was in his blood. And he was also doing it in the memory of his brother, who would not have wanted him to give up becoming a detective just because he died.

He turned into the driveway of the house in which he had grown up in. For a moment, he sat in his car as the happy images from his childhood days. It started with two kids clambering all over the place as they played the various childhood games, and ended with two happy teens trading sharp quips as they needled each other over everything that mattered in the lives of teenagers.

He smiled. These were the memories that his brother would want him to remember. Not those of that storm-tossed night.

He got out of his car and took the liberty to collect the mails from the post box before letting himself into the house.

"I'm here mom," he called out as he walked into the dining area.

He dropped the letters on the dining table and passed the flowers to his mom.

"Happy Mother's Day," he said simply, reaching down to lay a kiss on her cheeks.

"Thanks, these are lovely as usual," his mother responded. "How's Callie? And how are the wedding preparations going?"

"Whoa mom, slow down," he laughed. "Callie got a surprise planned for her mom, and the wedding preparations are going well… no need to worry. And Callie's looking forward to an autumn wedding."

"I've set the table, Laur," Fenton announced, "and I can't wait to taste that new recipe you are testing out."

Turning to Frank, the father added, as he began to sort out the mail his son brought in. "You don't know how lucky you are, I've been sitting here all evening smelling the cooking and getting tortured by the aroma."

"No work tonight, Fent!" Laura reminded him.

He chuckled; his father had a tendency to forget his meals when he gets into a case. And his mom always worried about dad's health.

"Hmm… Laur, you got an unmarked mail from England," Fenton held out the worn looking envelope for his wife.

Laura was surprised as she was not aware she had any friends or relatives currently residing in England. Nevertheless, she took the envelope opened it, and read the letter held within.

"It's from Sarah," Laura said, clearly stunned to receive that letter.

"Who's Sarah?" He asked, curious.

Laura looked up with a faraway look in her eyes as she replied, "my sister… you wouldn't know her, Frank. We weren't close… well… we were very close, but got estranged as we grew up."

"Sarah? The one who married that adventurer son of some shipping magnate and barely came back to visit her family again? They had a son called Paul or something… the one your mom said looked like Joe… what does she wants?" Fenton queried.

He flinched a little. If there was someone out there who looked like his brother, he did not want to know. It would be too painful to look at that face everyday, knowing he was not Joe but someone else.

Laura nodded as she continued reading the letter. Then she frowned.

"Frank, get me a pen and paper … now!" Laura called out, her voice terse.

He was surprised but did as requested, and then sat down on the dining table to watch him mom marked off some stuff on the original letter and then scribbled a message on the blank paper.

"When we were younger, me and Sarah used to spend hours inventing codes and cryptograms to challenge each other," Laura said as she worked, her face getting more pale with each word she deciphered.

He felt concerned and had leaned over to read the message that his mom had decoded. He knew his dad was doing the same from the other side. His heart started to pound harder with each word. He gasped in shock. The final message read:

_Sister… they… watchingme… Laura… sorry… confession … myson… Paul… died… pulled…Joe…from…sea… took … him …head …injury …permanent … amnesia … someone …foundout … wanted …Joe … savehim … helpus … Paul … isJoe … Trident … SANSL_

* * *

**_NB: It was pointed out that Mother's Day fall on a Sunday and that there are no mail deliveries on that day. But for the purpose of this story, please either ignore that fact, or assume that neither Laura nor Fenton opened the mail box since Friday. Thanks! _**

* * *


	4. Chapter 3

**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 3 **

_The skies had cleared a little...ah finally a glimpsed of sunshine! How quickly the mood lightened! Though that might cause some consternation. Would the words still flow? Perhaps the plot would start to move this time, as the story teller now had to struggle to find a rhyme. Suddenly, the ray of sunshine fades, and even though it was not yet late. From the balcony I stared into the distance, and I could see the dark clouds on the horizon. On the balcony I ponder the fate, the path of a single droplet of rain. Did the water droplet have a destiny, as it started on its downward journey? It splashes into a puddle and set off the ripples. -Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

Reginald Schwarz returned to his penthouse located on top of his company's building in New York City bearing a grim smile. He handed his over coat to his butler and walked swiftly into his study. As expected, one of his most trusted agents was in there waiting for him.

"Report," he ordered.

"The Hardys are getting close," his agent responded. "The son managed to track some of our electronic international money transfers. We have to terminate those before he could trace it to us. Without the ready cash, the timeline for some of our projects will be compromised."

"I see." It was clear that Reginald Schwarz was far from pleased as he scanned through the damage report. "Put the least important projects on the back-burner. Make sure Project Nemesis completes at all cost. Go!"

The agent stood up and left the room.

A second older and more intellectual looking man entered and sat down on the same chair as the agent.

"Project Alice is performing as expected," he told his boss.

"Good. Get prepared for two more subjects."

The intellectual arched his brows in surprise.

"My grandson and his wife will be here soon. I want them processed. They will be taking over my duties, and I must be absolutely certain of their commitment and loyalty."

The intellectual nodded in acquiesce and left.

Reginald Schwarz stood up and walk through the glass doors and out onto the spacious penthouse balcony. There he could see the entire skyline of the city. It was an uplifting feeling, as if one was standing on top of the world.

And there, on that balcony looking down at the whole of New York City, the old grandfather smiled with grim satisfaction. Fate indeed did operate in strange ways, and had delivered unto him a potential successor.

Who would have thought his own son and daughter-in-law would have gotten their hands on Hardy's boy and pass him off as their own after Paul's death?

Then the anger hits. How dared they try to pass someone else's son off as his grandson! Don't they realize what his grandson stood to inherit?

Then again, that boy was perfect! He even chose a good strong woman as his wife. And the Hardys believed the boy dead too! That was just too perfect! The similarities between their own dead son and Hardy's son had been uncanny. He wondered about it and resolved to send another agent to do some more digging.

He turned and left the balcony. There was much work to be done.

* * *


	5. Chapter 4

**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 4 **

_It was night again. Was the rain still on-going? I did not know for my sight could not pierce the darkness. But what I did know was that it was cold. What I did know was that I wanted my sunshine when I woke up tomorrow.-Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

I was dreaming again of that storm-tossed night. The waves threw me back and forth, and the current threatened to drag me under. The current did drag me under, and I was fighting to get back to the surface again. I kicked and pushed and struggled against the current, trying to reach the surface for the air I desperately needed. But the surface still seemed so far away. I was not going to make it, I thought in despair. And slowly but surely, panic began to set in…

"Calm down, son… you'll be okay… take it slow …take a deep breath… "

The voice continued to soothe me. It calmed me down, gave me hope. It was such a familiar voice. I knew I've heard it before somewhere…

I broke through the dark roiling waves and gasped for air…

I opened my eyes, and saw white.

Where was I? How did I get here?

Then, as more memories returned, I started to panic again. Where was my wife? Was she alright?

I forced myself to look around the room I was in despite the nausea it caused, and my eyes settled on…

"Dad?" I croaked out through dry lips.

It could not be. He died three months ago in that boating accident. Didn't he? Then I remembered the two detectives. They were apparently right about potential foul play after all. What was going on here?

"Just lay back for a little while more, son. It will take a while for the drugs to wear off…" my dad told me soothingly.

I relaxed and lay back down.

And started thinking back on what happened.

I and my wife had just arrived at the JFK International Airport. We had decided to come over to join Grandpa Reg and helped him, since he was getting on the years and the death of his son must have impacted him tremendously. Grandpa had sent his chauffeur and limousine to pick us up. We went straight to his penthouse and settled into one of the guest rooms. Then we came down to join him for dinner, after which we retired to the cozy living room for a chat. We had some drinks and …

Those drinks were drugged! I now realized. I remember now the surprise I felt when I saw my wife dropping her glass and nodding off. I tried to reach her, but had started to feel rather woozy myself, and I turned my accusing gaze on Grandpa Reg, only to see several men reaching down to haul me up. I faded off soon after that.

Why? Why would he do that? It doesn't make any sense at all.

I opened my eyes and looked at my father pleadingly. Did he have any answers at all?

Only then I realized his eyes were bloodshot, and that there were deep dark sags beneath them. My dad looked like he aged a decade since I last saw him … just over three months ago. And he had lost a lot of weight. What on earth happened? I wondered again.

"Why, dad? Why? Why did grandpa do this?" I asked of him.

Then I took another look around the room. "Dad, where's Ehlana?"

My father shook his head, "I don't know, son. I don't know."

Then the door opened, and grandpa walked in with two others. They looked like professional military men and that did not bode well at all. I felt anger well up in me, and I wanted to reach out and grab his neck and demand he tell me where my wife was and why he was doing these to all of us.

But I did none of those. They had the upper hand at the moment, and I would need to watch for opportunities. Instead, I snapped a single word at him.

"Why."

Reg chuckled. "It seems you have learnt to control your impulsiveness after all."

"I was never impulsive," I shot back.

He laughed. "Of course you were, Joseph. It's all here on your dossier."

Was he crazy? Who was that Joseph fellow? Is this what that was all about?

"My name is Paul, grandpapa. If I may add that you're still too young to be senile." I said sarcastically.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad went pale.

"Please, father, let him go, he didn't know. Please!" he pleaded.

"Don't you think you owed young Joseph here the truth?" that crazy old man said to my dad.

I was starting to get a lot of bad vibes from this. The walls of the dark stormy night again loomed forbiddingly before me. I was suddenly afraid.

"Dad…?" I asked in a soft voice. "What is he talking about?"

My dad looked at me, his eyes so full of guilt and pain. And love too.

"I really love you, son. So did your mom. We loved you like our own son… "He started.

I could feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I wasn't quite sure I was ready to hear that. What did one do when one knows the world around him was going to collapse on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it?

"Our son, Paul, died a just over six years ago. We were grieving, and went on a sailing trip, and sailed quite deliberately into a storm. We were raging against god and nature for taking him from us. Then we found you hanging on to a piece of wood in the churning waves and pulled you on board. You had a bad head injury, and we could not do much for you until the storm subsided. We had planned to return you to your family, but you looked so much like Paul…"

I wasn't me.

Who am I? Reg called me Joseph, didn't he? What kind of a person was he? Was I? Was he a good person? Was I?

It was such a strange feeling, to know that you have been living a lie. That you have not been you but have been someone else.

"…and when we realized that you couldn't remember, we took it that you were god's gift for us." My dad continued.

No, not my dad. Paul's dad. But my dad for the last six years.

"We took you back to England with us, so that there was no chance that your family might accidentally meet you. We cut contact with all our American friends and made new ones. But you're worth all of that. You're the son we always wanted. You did well, went to Oxford and graduated with a double degree in psychology and marketing. You joined us in our adventures. You found a wonderful girl for a wife. We are both so proud of you. We're sorry for the pain we caused your family when we made that choice. But we never regretted it. Not then, certainly and not now."

He reached for me.

I stared at his hand on my arm and gently removed it. I could see the pain in his eyes, but I was not ready for that contact. I had loved and trusted them, and they had lied to me for the last six years. And my real family must have suffered when I was happily living my life of lies.

"Who… Who am I and who are my real family?" I demanded of the man I knew as my dad.

"Your name is Joseph Hardy. Your father is Fenton Hardy, a very well-known private investigator. Your mother's name is Laura. You have an elder brother, Frank." He said resignation clear in his tone.

_'Joseph,'_ I repeated the name to myself.

Somehow it didn't feel right.

_'Joe?' _

That felt sort of familiar.

I tried the same thing with the other names. And felt nothing. It was disappointing.

"Father, I'm sorry for lying to you. But please let Joseph go. He's really innocent in all these…" I could hear my dad begged Reg.

No, not my dad. Nigel. His name was Nigel. And her name was Sarah.

But he loved me. She loved me. They loved me.

And I loved them too.

Reg laughed. I turned and glared at him, and waited. That old man was up to something else. I knew it with every bit of my soul. And it would not be anything good.

"Ah, but I can't do that, my son." Reg said. "You see, after all these years, you _did_ finally gave me a grandson worthy of taking over all I have."

Nigel turned even paler.

"Young Joseph here has matured very well, like fine wine, over the last six years, under yours and Sarah's guidance."

He turned and looked at me. "The only problem is your loyalty. I needed you to be totally devoted to my cause."

"Loyalty is to be earned," I retorted. "But this is not simply about taking over your shipping business, is it?"

Reg laughed. "I knew you are worthy of the honor that was about to be bestowed on you! You'll be taking over my position as one of the board members of the Consortium. You'll get to know more about it and all it entails when you are ready."

Then I realized with a sudden clarity … "You killed Sarah didn't you. You killed her because she didn't agree with your 'cause'."

He smiled a strange smile but did not respond.

"And my wife? Where's Ehlana?"

"She is currently being processed, as you will be. Do not worry; she'll be a perfect wife to you. As your dad just said, you chose well for a wife. I approve of your choice."

"You bastard!" I gritted out and leapt at him.

But the two men with him were faster and grabbed hold of me, forcing me back against the wall. Nigel, no my dad, tried to help me, but was quickly knocked out by one of those goons.

"Don't worry, my boy, when this is all over, you'll be Paul, and you'll take over all that I have to offer."

One of the men had drawn a syringe from his pocket and swiftly emptied its contents into my arm.

I forced myself to stare Reg in the eye, "I will remember. I swear I will remember, and you'll be sorry."

Even then, I knew I was deluding myself. If I could not remember who I was now, I certainly could not hope to remember later. After whatever those crazy bastards were planning to do to me.

Then as I was fading off, I thought: _'But I'll remember a storm-tossed night. And from there, I'll breach the walls and remember it all…'_

* * *


	6. Chapter 5

**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 5 **

_Dawn came and I slowly opened my eyes. Lo behold, I saw lovely golden rays of sunshine! Yet as I looked out of the window and into the far horizon, I saw storm clouds gathering and moving right back in. And I knew with a heavy heart that the rains would be back before the day's end. -Jolly _

**HBHBHB **

He still remembered that storm-tossed night. Only this time, the memories lacked the heaviness it used to have. A ray of sunshine had broken through the thick dark clouds.

His brother lives!

The family had abandoned their dinner soon after Laura finished decoding the letter. How could they even think of eating then?

He had been skeptical at first, but the hope that Joe survived despite the incredible odds had won out. No body was ever found! There was a possibility. A tiny possibility, but still a possibility. And in his father's home office, he began his search. Schwarz, his mom told him. Her sister had married a Nigel Schwarz. So he searched for Paul Schwarz. There weren't many of them, and he hit pay dirt on the third one. Who would have thought his little brother would have his own homepage on the net?

_'Paul's Adventures; Living Life to the Fullest.'_ The heading read.

He stared at the photo of the blond headed young man with deep blue eyes on the computer screen before him. It was an older face, the features more angular, but it was still Joe. The name beneath the picture said 'Paul Schwarz', but he knew in his heart it was Joe. His younger brother whom he believed dead for the past six years was still alive! It was his brother there in the wide and generous Joe-smile that was looking back at him from the screen. And it was Joe's vibrant blue eyes twinkling with barely contained mirth that were looking back at him from the screen.

A feminine hand reached past him to touch Joe's cheeks on the screen. He turned and looked into his mom's tear-filled eyes. He knew his own were also shining suspiciously bright. Behind his mom, his dad was staring at the picture, hope warring with disbelief on his face.

"Dad, that **_is _**Joe," he said his voice firm with conviction.

Three pairs of joyful hopeful eyes turned back once more to the photo on the screen, absolute in their belief that the family will be whole once more. It was just a matter of time.

He sat there for next half hour, his parents next to him, reading Joe's lively and often witty narration of his trips and experiences. He could almost feel his brother there right next to him, and hear his voice animatedly recounting that journey down the Grand Canyon, and the trek up to Manchu Picchu.

So much of his brother's life that he missed!

Suddenly, a wave of self-loathing swept over him, and caught him by surprise. If only he had not given up so easily! He knew Joe always had the devil's luck, and yet he had so readily accepted his death. He now recalled his easy acceptance at Joe's memorial service a mere week after the incident, and that knowledge clawed at his conscience.

Then the logical Frank took over. He saw how it happened. The coast guard had searched for three days over thousands of square miles. The sea was known to keep what it took. There was no way he could have possibly known.

Those rationalizations salved his conscience a little.

Suddenly, he heard his mother gasped. He turned and saw the pain in her eyes. He wondered why. His mother reached for the mouse and clicked at a link. He saw and read:

_'In memory of my loving parents.' _

It was a eulogy, written for…

They were killed in a boating accident.

He skimmed through the beautiful prose, and he could feel his anger building with each word. They stole his brother from him. She stole her sister's son. How could they?

_'But they also saved him…'_ a tiny voice at the back of his mind reminded him.

But he could not forgive them. Not yet. And possibly not ever.

He heard his father gasped and the implication hits him. Sarah had sent an encrypted letter to his mother for help. And now she was dead, killed in an accident. Like his father, he did not believe in coincidences.

"Frank… looked up the newspaper articles on that accident… quick!" Fenton requested urgently.

He was already doing that, his fingers moving smoothly across the keyboard. Within minutes, he had pulled a number of articles from the various papers in the United Kingdom: The Guardian, Independent, Daily Telegraph, The Sun, etc. He scanned through the articles, sorting them chronological sequence. He knew his mother was having difficulty keeping up, but he didn't care. The accident happened three months ago. He reached for the worn envelop from London, and felt his apprehension went up a notch as the postmark showed that the letter was mailed just over three months back. He cursed at the fates… the letter must have gotten lost in the mails. Three months! Plenty could happen in three months!

The earlier articles had mentioned possibility of foul play, though eventually all articles had concluded that it was an accident.

_'No…' _

Panicked, he ran another news search specifically for Paul Schwarz, and heaved a sigh of relief. 'Paul' was still alive. No articles on Paul dying or missing. Thank God. For some reason, the supposed someone who was supposed to want Joe had not made his or her move just yet.

He frowned.

No! Whoever they were, they would not get their hands on his brother! He vowed.

"Frank… can you go back to that article on the Guardian? The name of the detective in charge of the investigation sounded familiar… I'm going to see if I can contact him for further details…" his father said to him.

He did as requested and got the name: Detective James Conner.

"Dad?" He called out.

His father looked at him.

"What are we going to do next?"

His mother responded instead, "we'll go and get him and bring him home..."

His father smiled but shook his head. "Laur, we can't exactly do that…"

"What do you mean?" his mother demanded, her hackles on the rise.

"Laur," my Dad said gently to her. "Joe does not remember us, your sister's note mentioned 'permanent amnesia'… and Joe is now … no Paul is the scion to the Schwarz shipping empire… he's not someone we could just walked up to and say 'hey you're Joe we're your real family and we want you home' … we might have to go through official channels for this one … and we still have to figure out where he is now and what happened…"

He was half listening to the exchange between his parents, preferring to read up more on Joe's life over the last few years. It was a soothing balm to his hurt soul, and it made him feel, for a short while, as if Joe had always been there with him. Strange, wasn't it?

Then he clicked on the next link and…

"Uh-oh," he called out to his parents. "I think we have complications… Joe's married."

They turned to him enquiringly.

Together, the three of them held their breath and waited for the wedding photos to load onto the webpage.

The woman was beautiful in her wedding finery. She was slim and almost as tall as Joe, with rich brown hair and a heart-shaped face. But what caught all their attention was her eyes and it gave them hope like never before.

"Oh my!" His mother breathed. "She got your eyes, Frank. She got your eyes…"

* * *

**NB: This chapter is for Liz and her perspective on Frank's character. Without that, this chapter would never come to be.**

* * *


	7. Chapter 6

**I tried to post this together with chapter 5, but somehow I couldn't. So this will be posted when I can post it.  
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* * *

**  
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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 6 **

_It was said that the eye of the storm was the calm. Yesterday was the eye. And today the storm cometh. It rained hard and furious, and webs of lightning flashed across the darkened skies. The sound of thunder harkened. The light of chaos beckoned. –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

In a room located far below the basement of the Schwarz Building was The Facility. And there Reginald Schwarz stood behind the one-way glass partition watching over the proceedings. This particular project was just too important to him to be left to his minions. His chosen heir deserved his undivided and personal attention. And this also pertained to the future of the Consortium.

The Consortium, old man Schwarz smiled as he recalled the stories his father told him. It arose from the ashes and was formed with the hidden wealth and resources of the Second World War. It was formed by men and women with visions of a better world and with the guts to do what must be done. They formed the Board and the core of the Consortium.

Schwarz watched the young man lying so still on the reclining chair. He had heard about the mental fight the boy had put up. It was not surprising, given he did graduate with a degree in psychology and would of course at a certain level of consciousness know what was being done to him.

But poor poor foolish boy. He had no idea just how much more advance The Consortium's technology were in comparison to what he studied at college. The Axis powers had the best scientists and the most brilliant mind back then. And this particular process had been refined since the days of medical research in the concentration camps.

No one had known how far ahead they had been back then, Schwarz recalled. Those foolish Americans and Russians had thought they had taken the best scientists after the fall of the Axis. It was from there that both the Americans and the Russians even had the capability to wage the space race. It was Axis technology that powered the rockets to the moon.

Ah he remembered the race to break the sound barrier. How naïve were the British, to have given away their research and expected their American counterparts to share information. While they tricked the secrets from the British, the Americans had stolen the secrets to reaching Mach 1 from the Axis. With that, they constructed the X-1, which unofficially breached Mach 1 October 14, 1947.

That should have been an Axis achievement.

But no matter. The most brilliant minds had already been moved from Berlin by the time the Allies stormed the city. And they and their prodigies had continued their research in numerous hidden locations around the world.

Schwarz was rouse from his reverie when the door opened.

"How is he doing?" he asked as soon as the Intellectual walked into the room.

"He is tough." The Intellectual responded.

Reginald chuckled, "that is to be expected of my chosen heir."

"Commitment to The Cause has been successfully implanted. However, loyalty to you is a much more complicated process."

The old man shrugged, "Human relationships are always more complex and unpredictable than functional rationale behind ideologies. The Cause is paramount. Do your best for the latter. You have all the time you need."

"I do not understand. Why don't you simply obliterate all links to his previous identity. That could be easily done."

"Given the fact I am currently based in New York City, there is a good chance the Hardys would run into him eventually. DNA evidence and fingerprints will easily prove his identity, regardless of whether he remembers. It would confuse him. I prefer him loyal despite knowing of his former identity… if it comes down to that."

The Intellectual removed his spectacles and cleaned his lens, his expression thoughtful.

"I see." He said.

Then, one of the medical assistants signaled from the other side of the window.

"Come," The Intellectual said to his boss. "It's time to calibrate his base perception of you."

Schwarz walked into the operating room. This was the first time he was seeing the boy up close since the process started. Again, he marveled at the advances in technology that had enabled this process.

The mass of fibre-optic cables many times finer than the human hair but harder and sharper than steel were inserted through the skull into the brain at varying depths. Those cables were so fine; they left no marks on the skin when withdrawn. They were positioned with razor sharp precision with the help of computing technologies into their respective locations in the brain itself. Once properly positioned, those cables had total control of the subject's sensory perception and motor functions.

In this case, most of the cables would be focused on the cerebral cortex, which was the region of the brain involved in sensory perception, memory, and emotions. This part of the process had involved the use of generated memories to simulate the required emotions.

Schwarz sat down on the chair the medical assistant had provided, and faced his chosen heir. The Intellectual fiddled with some keys and dials on the control panel located beside the subject.

He watched as Joseph/Paul opened his eyes and waited patiently for those vibrant blue orbs to focus on him.

"Hello grandson," he started.

"Hello grandpa," Joseph responded in a flat emotionless tone.

"I love you, grandson," Schwarz continued.

Joseph frowned, his mind clearly struggling to remember something and protesting. The Intellectual fiddled with a keys and dials again, and the boy relaxed, his eyes glazed over for an instant before responding dully, "I love you, grandpa."

"I love you, grandson," Schwarz repeated.

The boy again fought against the programming, but when he responded this time, the voice was firmer. "I love you, grandpa."

After many repetitions, Joseph finally responded in a voice rich with love, "I love you very much, grandpa…"

And the computer AI signaled a successful baseline calibration.

Then it started all over again.

"I trust you, grandson," Schwarz said.

"I trust you, grandpa."

And the process repeated itself over and over, until it depleted the list of key words that could be used to positively describe a loving and trusting relationship between a grandfather and his grandson.

**_HBHBHB _**

Detective James Conner was in a bad mood after doing a consecutive double shift. It had been a long day, and his superior had seen it fit to saddle him with another tedious hit and run case just 15 minutes before the end of his shift. That was just so crappy. He cursed the Blair government for cutting the police budget and for wasting valuable resources in Iraq.

He looked at the old gritty clock on his table. It showed 9:50pm at night. He downed cup of coffee and then dragged himself off to the crime scene. He sighed. There was nothing he could do; he was just a little minion at the bottom of the pecking order. Well, not exactly the bottom, but close enough, once you looked up and see the number of ranks above you.

His cell rang and he picked it up. He wondered who it was. There was no caller ID.

"Detective Conner," he said.

"Hello Conner, this is Fenton here. Fenton Hardy. Do you remember me? We worked on the case of the subway bombing two years back in 2005…"

Conner pitched the bridge of his nose, trying to recall that case. "Oh Fenton… what a surprise! How may I be of assistance?"

Conner was under no illusion that Fenton might be giving him a social call. One did not dial international for social calls. Nowadays, they used emails for that sort of crap. Whatever it was that detective wanted, it was personal.

"Conner, I was wondering if I could ask for information regarding a case you handled three months back."

"Which case, Fenton?"

"It concerns the death of Nigel Schwarz and his wife in a boating accident…"

"What's your interest in it, Fenton?"

"Sarah Schwarz was my wife's sister, Conner." Fenton replied in a serious tone.

Conner perked up. Now that was interesting. He recalled that case and how he was taken off it. Yes, that case definitely stinks…

"Ah… I see. Tell you what Fenton. I am currently on duty and am near the end of a double shift. My brain's all mashed up. Let me get some sleep… Give me a call say 10am tomorrow morning and we talk, okay?"

* * *


	8. Chapter 7

**I do not think it would be a good idea to wait for bad weather and bad mood before I continue with this story, especially since the plot was already there. It took a while and a really bad start, but finally here's something I'm fairly happy with posting...  
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**RagnaICE: How did you know that Day after Tomorrow is a fave movie of mine? I love Dennis Quaid in it! Referencing your comments in Thieves War - you're right about my brain getting mess up because of too many stories. And some of those will be put on backburner for a while ...  
**

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**  
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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 7 **

_Don't you hate it when you suddenly find yourself dependent on the weather for inspiration? –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

**_10 _**

Fenton Hardy made his way back to his motel in London. He was totally exhausted, having been working non-stop chasing up on almost impossible leads for the last six days. Most trails would have gone cold in three months, and most detectives would not have been able to pick up anything. But Fenton was not an ordinary detective, and his ability to think outside of the square had enabled him to solve some truly baffling cases. And this one was personal. His intuition did not fail him and he was happy to have found some interesting leads on the case of his sister-in-law's death. He dropped his notes onto the bedside table. He would be going through them again in detail after a refreshing shower.

It had been almost a fortnight since his wife received that mysterious letter from her sister, Sarah, from London with a coded message that said that his younger son was still alive. He had been disbelieving at first. But Frank had been insistent that the picture of the young man on the web was Joe. And he, wanting to believe, had chosen to believe.

And when he found out that the detective in charge of the case was James Conner, and that the case was close under mysterious circumstances, he had packed up and flown over to personally follow up on the case. He had reasons to suspect that Sarah and her husband were killed to get to Joe, at least that was what the secret note had implied, and for the sake of his son's safety he needed to find out what happened right here in London. But he had to admit to himself that the reason for anyone wanting 'Paul', beyond that of the typical kidnap-for-ransom scenario, eluded him. And there were so many questions to which he had no answers to. For example, why had Mr. Reginald Schwarz allowed the London Metropolitan Police to simply declare the deaths as accidental and closed it? Did he hire his own detectives to investigate further? Did he even know that there might be other people after his 'grandson'? He would have to think of someway to get an interview with Reginald Schwarz when he returned to the States.

Frank had been rather angry at first when he was told that he had to stay in the States to finish up the international money fraud case for the FBI. It was his mathematical model and algorithm that had successfully tracked those suspicious money transfers, Fenton pointed out reasonably. And Hardys and Radley Investigations Inc. was due to present their findings to the FBI within the week.

Fenton smiled as he recalled how Frank had actually sulked at his directive. That was, until they found out that Paul/Joe had returned to the States to assist his grandfather in the running of Schwarz Shipping Lines Ltd. After which Frank was more than agreeable to the idea of remaining in the States. Fenton had no doubt that his eldest was plotting to meet up with Joe somehow even back then. So he had been sternly reminding him firstly of the need to complete the FBI project, and secondly to only watch the movements of the Schwarz. No contact until they had irrefutable evidence that Paul was Joe, and also when they could present a clearer picture to the powerful shipping mogul that Joe's life might be in danger.

He could only hope that Frank would listen. He knew Frank had a tendency to throw logic out of the window where his younger brother was concerned, and he seriously doubt that the six years had made any difference to that particular behavior. The situation had become much more delicate now that Schwarz had made a public announcement that his grandson Paul would soon be taking over as the CEO of his shipping company. He was not even sure how to approach the mogul to tell him that his grandson was not really his grandson. That was a situation heading for potential scandal of mega proportions.

And especially now that he had irrefutable proof that Paul Schwarz was indeed his younger son, Joseph. He had found out that Paul was a regular blood donor to the Red Cross here in London. And he had managed to, quite illegally; obtain a sample for DNA testing against his own. When it came to the welfare of his family, he was not above bending a few rules or even laws. The result was out yesterday, and it tested 99.8 percent affirmative that the two blood samples belong to father and son. Frank had been ecstatic when he called home with the news yesterday. He could almost hear his elder son saying I told you so through the phone.

After finishing his shower, Fenton wrapped a towel around his waist and settled down onto his bed to peruse his work so far. James Conner had given him a detailed report on the suspected sabotage of the private yatch, citing unusual damages to the yatch given the mildness of the storm which the expert sailing couple had wondered into. The strange bruises on Sarah's body also indicated the possibility that the body had been strapped onto the boat after death. Unfortunately, there was no evidence of any third party on the yatch. Whatever happened on that yatch that stormy night, the sea had held on tight its secrets.

Fenton sighed. That was the end of the road for the yatch and the primary crime scene.

But, there were always other means of tracking what happened. And track he did. He went back to the marina where the yatch was parked. He wandered around the place, familiarized himself with the environs. If he were to be the saboteur, what would he do? How would he do it? Where was the vantage point where he could casually observe everything without being seen? Fenton ruthlessly backtracked all those movements and possibilities. And he founded the restaurant. It was located on the little hilltop just half a mile from the marina. The tables from the restaurant's balcony had afforded the diners and unimpeded view of the marina. Several waiters and waitresses had told him about a strange man who had been there consistently during the two weeks before Sarah's death. That man had been obsessive about always taking one of the three balcony seats, and had gone to the extent of leaving a deposit to reserve one of those tables almost permanently. And according to one of the waitress, he had a pair of binoculars with him. The restaurant staff had been more than happy to assist in the sketching of a portrait. And when Detective Conner had helped identified that man as a free-for-hire mercenary, Fenton knew he hit pay dirt.

And he continued digging deeper into the mystery surrounding the deaths of Nigel and Sarah Schwarz.

**_11 _**

From within the London Metropolitan Police building, a phone call was made via cell phone to an unknown location.

"Hardy's here in London investigating the Schwarz case."

"Who?"

"Fenton Hardy. He's a private investigator. A very good one of international repute."

"Why the heck was Hardy even on this case?"

"Apparently, Sarah Schwarz was related to the Hardys. She and Hardy's wife were sisters… and Conner's assisting him… seems that they were pals and had worked together before"

"Damned… and thanks for the tip off..."

There was a click and the line went silent.

**_12 _**

The blond headed young man stood confidently at the railing, his deep blue eyes focused on the massive construction work below. This was an important project that was entrusted into his care, and he was determined to see it completed perfectly and on schedule. Project Atlantis will lived up to its namesake. He would not let his grandfather down.

From the shadows beyond the platform, Reginald Schwarz stood and observed the actions of that young man.

_'My grandson,'_ he thought. _'Maybe not quite, but still my grandson in every way that mattered.' _

He watched as his grandson gestured one of the supervisors over, and then heard him issue crisp and clear instructions. Reports from his men had indicated that they were truly happy to follow his lead. Yes, Hardy's younger son had charisma and was a natural leader. And the Intellectual had done a beautiful job with the programming while preserving much of the boy's original personality. And those would serve the boy well when he took over both the shipping company and as one of the board members of the Consortium. In fact, Reginald had no doubt that his grandson would become the key board member, just like he was.

Darn! Even he was forgetting that the young man was actually Hardy's son!

Reginald shook his head and smiled. Yes, he had made a good choice and the right choice. At the end of the day, all that matters was The Cause. And this young man before him certainly had the aptitude to see it through to the end.

He started to walk towards his grandson.

"Good morning Paul," he greeted, and was gratified to see Paul's eyes brightened with love and pleasure when he saw him.

"Good morning grandpa," Paul responded warmly. "I see you were here to check if I had blown up anything yet, huh?" Paul teased.

"But of course! I knew you inherited your father's knack for imploding buildings…"

They both laughed in fond remembrance. Nigel Schwarz worked as a building demolition expert, and was one of the foremost demolition specialists in the industry before he was killed in that freak accident, and had even worked on a number of Hollywood sets. Nigel had refused to work for his father, claiming shipping was boring. He would rather be out there adventuring and blowing up buildings. Then both fell silent for a moment as they both paid tribute to the dead son and father.

Then Paul said in a more serious tone, "I've made some changes to the schedule. This project should still be able to complete on time, despite the cut in funding."

"I've seen your report. That was an ingenious move. Well done, Paul."

Paul blushed. "Thanks."

"I've also taken the liberty to study our money transfer schema," Paul continued, taking Reginald by surprise. "… and have isolated the patterns to those transfers. I had our mathematician working on reverse engineering the mathematical model that could have been used to track those transfers…"

Unbelievable, Paul had actually taken that initiative. This was beyond his expectations.

"… You know my wife's finance and applied mathematics major. Ehlana's currently working on an alternative and hopefully more effective schema."

"Very good, Paul. But there's something else." Reginald prompted.

"I am interested in the mind behind that mathematical model." Paul confessed.

Reginald eyes narrowed, "if I might ask why?"

"At first I had thought it was the mathematics," Paul replied unhesitatingly. "... then, as we broke down and tested the algorithm, I realized that it wasn't the maths, but the heuristics. That person, whoever that was, had a unique understanding of numbers, and had clobbered together a series of simple and common equations in a unique combination to form a remarkably effective tracking algorithm."

Turning to face his grandpa, Paul continued with a shrug, "… and I thought that might be someone you might be interested in getting on our side."

"I'll get someone to look into the matter."

Interesting, Reginald thought. This was most interesting.

"But ah, we have to make a move, grandson of mine." Reginald said. "We've to prepare for the upcoming AGM and the shareholder's meeting."

Paul took a last scan at his project. Satisfied that everybody knew their responsibilities, he gave his grandpa a quick affirmative nod and accompanied his grandpa up to the helicopter pad.

**_13 _**

"Come on, James, pick up your bloody phone!" Maggie cursed as she rang her partner for the fourth time.

She was on her holiday visiting her brother and nephew in Bangkok, Thailand, and had accidentally bumped into a most interesting situation.

"Conner here."

Finally he picked up the phone, Maggie grouched.

"Hey James, you won't believe what I have to tell you!"

"Maggie! Aren't you supposed to be on your break? Absolutely no work and no contact – wasn't that what you decreed?" James queried, surprised.

"Nigel Schwarz's alive. He's here in Bangkok teaching at my nephew's elementary school and he's going by the name of Mr. Black…"

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**Please review! **

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	9. Chapter 8

**Here's the next bit. Please note that there is really a Ritz Carlton on Central Park, and it really have an Ohmstead Boardroom, but I put it on the top floor instead of the second, just so I could write that elevator scene and also for the sake of grandeur.  
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**PK: yes you're right about the Atlantis project construction. And Nemesis is the one from greek mythology. you're guessing alot right already, lol. And yes, it was originally supposed to be Joe in first person, and Frank in second person. Making the book protagonist Joe, and you the reader Frank. Then I chickened out because I don't really get Frank. How the heck did you even guess that one!  
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**RagnaICE and Jimmy: would you mind pm-ing me with your email? Would like to add you to my story discussion mailing list. Pls read below.  
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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 8 **

_It was said that there was power in names. In the old days, it was believed that to know the true name of a person was to have power over them. Perhaps that was the real reason why storms had names. Not because it was easier for meteorologists to remember, especially when there were two or more storms happening at once. But because that storm were named so that man could feel that he had power over them... –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

**_14 _**

I woke up with a start.

I knew I had nightmares. Sweat beaded my brow and my hands were wet and clammy.

But I could not remember what it was about. Those wicked dreams eluded my conscious mind, and try as I did, I could not catch even a wisp of it.

And those little flighty wisps teased me mercilessly, flaunting their presence at the very edges of my conscious mind.

I felt like I was drowning in frustration.

**_15 _**

He was almost trembling with excitement as he alighted from his taxi before The Ritz Carlton Hotel on Central Park. Today, no one would be able to stop one Frank Hardy from legitimately setting his eyes on his younger brother. And if he was lucky, he might even get to exchange a few words with Joe.

He swiftly scanned the invite firmly held in his hands. Schwarz Shipping, Notice of Annual Stakeholders Meeting 2006, it said. And yes, there was a light refreshment reception afterwards, so all the stakeholders could mingle and socialized.

And this year, they would also be getting the chance to know the future director of the company.

It would have been impossible for him to attend this meeting legitimately under normal circumstances. Schwarz Shipping's was not a public listed company, its shares were closely held within a small tightly knitted group of investors. Its annual meetings were highly exclusive and attendees were required formal wear.

Thank goodness he had this suit ready in preparation for his wedding.

And he really owed this to Phil. Phil Cohen, his best friend since Bayport High. They had grown even closer since when he thought Joe died six years ago. Phil, who in an unexpected stroke of luck, inherited a point five percent share of Schwarz Shipping when his grandfather past away a couple of years back. And when Frank had approached him for that huge favor, explaining the need for him to attend that annual meeting, Phil had instantly offered to loan those shares to him. Just like that. The transfer of ownership was organized through Phil's family lawyers, and he soon received the invite in the mail. All Phil said was, to bring Joe home. That was what matters.

He walked through the rotating doors, and headed towards the elevators. The meeting was to be held in the Ohmstead Boardroom located at the top floor of the hotel. It was for both exclusivity, and also for the sake of security.

While waiting for the elevator, he found his thoughts drifting a little guiltily back to the FBI money fraud case. He had not been putting in as much effort as he should have. His report had not been as complete as he could have made it.

Frank shrugged. His brother's case would always take priority over everything else. And it was true that all transfers were terminated soon after he managed to trace the series of them. And he could not track what did not exist anymore. Somehow, they were alerted to the fact that he was onto them. How, he had no idea. But he would figure that out eventually.

He frowned. Actually, that was not quite the full truth to the matter. The transfers had stopped. Then it started again. Sort of. Every now and then, a single transaction would pop up on his radar, and then disappeared. His FBI agent partner had already assumed those were outlier cases. Somehow, something told him it was not. It was like they knew and were deliberately teasing him about it. It was like there was some sort of a message embedded in there just for him to decipher.

Under normal circumstances, he would have tracked it and played that game with them. He would be cautious of the trap at the end of the trail. Of course there would be some sort of a trap at the end. He was not stupid. But not now. Now he got much more important things to worry about and to do.

Joe.

And he had been spending time trying to figure out what the two words 'Trident' and 'SANSL' meant. They had to be important, or Aunt Sarah would not have included that. But he would get to that later. He would need his notes and computer and access to the net to figure that out. For now, he would concentrate on the prospect of seeing Joe soon. And he would make sure he could somehow create an opportunity to speak to his brother. Caution be damned if needed be!

The elevator door opened and he walked in.

He could feel his heart beating just a little faster.

Soon.

His eyes locked on the numbers above the elevator door. They were now at the twentieth floor, and still going up.

He took a deep breath and forced his mind to focus on his breathing. Take the air in through the mouth and feel it move down through to his lungs. Feel the oxygen blend into his bloodstream, and circulate through his body. Up to the brains and down to his toes, before finding its way back to his lungs again. And finally he expelled those used air as carbon dioxide.

He was now at the thirtieth floor.

A well-dress middle-aged man walked in. They exchanged a smile and eyed each other curiously. Frank thought that they might both be heading towards the same meeting.

The lights flashed on the number thirty one, and then on the number thirty two.

It stopped again at thirty three. There was no one there.

Damned!

Thirty four.

He rubbed his clammy hands against his pants.

Thirty five.

His fingers clenched tight to hold in his eagerness.

Finally, there they were, on the thirty-sixth floor.

The elevator door opened. He walked out and followed the signs towards the Boardroom. There before the entry door stood a well-build man.

Frank gave him his invite.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hardy. Please follow me."

And he was shown to his seat. Before him was a folder, which he knew contained the usual information on Schwarz shipping, its financial statements, and the Annual Report 2006. He ignored them all, and instead casually scanned the room.

His heart pounded in his ribcage even as he struggled to project a calm and disinterested exterior.

The next moment, he stopped breathing totally.

Standing by the podium next to the shipping magnate Reginald Schwarz was his younger brother.

Joe… And damned! Did he look good in Armani!

**_16 _**

The meeting was over. They were all now in the hall mingling and helping themselves to the light refreshments being served. Not that he was in the mood to eat anything.

He had spent the entire meeting watching his brother. And he was still watching his brother.

How he missed that blond headed blue eye brat who never failed to make his life interesting with his many misadventures! His eyes lovingly traced those features, so much like his mother. And his fingers itched to ruffle up those neatly combed wavy blond hair.

It was so strange to see Joe in such formal wear and in such formal settings. As far as he could remember, Joe had always preferred his NBA T-shirts, denim jeans, and his Nike Air. It was almost as if his little brother was gone and someone else inhabited that body that was left behind.

Yet, as he watched Joe socialized and chatted with other stakeholders, he realized much of his brother was still there. The generous smile that reached the eyes was still there. The eyes still sparkled with openness and passion as he talked. His expressions were animated, his hands gesturing in that same old endearing manner to enhance the effect of whatever he was trying to communicate across. No one could fail to feel the aura of energy and zest for life that he exuded so carelessly and so easily. Frank could see that most of the stakeholders would have no trouble accepting him as successor to Schwarz Shipping.

Yes, that was definitely Joe, his baby brother. And somehow, he's going to find a way to talk to him. Unfortunately, Mr. Schwarz was still bringing Joe around and introducing him to various people. Frank supposed those were the major stakeholders. He sighed and waited a little more. Finally, he saw Joe heading towards the refreshment table alone. And he followed, his mind working furiously for a suitable topic of conversation. His preferred outcome was for Joe to see him and remember. And he knew that was … fat hope. He sighed as he maneuvered his way casually towards his brother, so that it would seem to all like they met accidentally.

Then fate had decided to give him a helping hand. The waitress who had been in between them with a heavy tray of champagne and wine suddenly slipped and would have crashed into the refreshment table if not for their quick action. _Their_ quick action, Frank exulted.

He had reacted instinctively, making a grab for the full and heavy tray of wine glasses, preventing it from falling on top of the waitress and possibly injuring her. He had known instinctively that Joe would take care of the girl. And Joe did just that! While he was making his move for the tray, and then twirling around with it a little to minimize spillage and thus saved all the glasses, Joe had stepped in and broken her fall.

For a moment, the room stilled, and silence reigned and all eyes turned to watch them.

And in that moment, a pair of blue eyes locked with a pair of brown. They stared at each other, eye to eye, for a short long while. And Frank thought he saw something flickered, just to die away in the next instant. And still they stared at each other.

Then Joe moved.

"Impressive move," his brother said, eyeing the tray as he helped the waitress to her feet. "Hardly any spillage at all."

"That was just luck," Frank responded with a casual shrug of his shoulders, as he passed the rescued tray on to the waiter who suddenly appeared next to him.

Slowly, the rest of the room returned to their normal activities.

"Paul Schwarz," his brother introduced himself, "and you are?"

"Frank Hardy," he returned the courtesy, and they both shook hands.

And they still continued to stare at each other.

"Nice meeting you," his brother said, "and I see you are a martial arts practitioner… Karate?"

Frank raised his brow, surprised and hopeful. Did Joe remember something?

"Yes ... I've been practicing that since I was eight … how did you know?" He asked.

His brother laughed. "It's in the way you move, your carriage… and I and Ehlana had been doing _Bagua _for the last four years…"

"Ehlana?"

"My wife."

They smiled at each other.

"You're young to be taking over such a huge corporation," Frank finally said.

It was just a little something to fill the silence and to dispel the growing awkwardness.

His brother frowned and sighed.

"I had no choice, my grandfather is getting on his years and he had to step back a little, for his health's sake…" And then his brother added in a rather cheeky tone directly fully at him. "And you are rather young too to be mingling amongst us ancient investors…"

Frank laughed happily. That brother of his.

"Never too young to make money, and never too ancient to spend them." He responded wryly.

"That's true," his brother concurred.

"Ah, I see my grandfather heading towards me," his brother winced. "Another endless round of tedious introductions and investor-relations PR with the ancient ones…"

Then to Frank's surprise, his brother passed him a name card and said, "Hey, give me a call… I still have to thank you for saving all those precious wine…"

With a final warm smile, his brother turned and left.

And he stood there watching his brother met up with Reginald Schwarz. He watched them mingled with other investors. He watched his brother for a long long time.

**_17 _**

A stocky build man with pale grey eyes and thick black hair in his early forties stared at the grandfather and grandson team as they walked away from him. Like them, he was one of the board members of The Consortium. But he had his own agenda. And soon, all the resources of The Consortium would be his for the taking…

"So that was Paul, he had matured very well indeed from since we last met eight years back," he murmured. "A very interesting young man… and he had grown into someone who would make a possibly worthy foe…Lucky Old Man Schwarz."

Yes, things might not be as easy as he hoped, but the end results would be the same.

**_18 _**

An old lady sat alone in a classy café overlooking Central Park. She knew of the meeting that was taking place up there on the top floor of The Ritz Carlton. And that would soon be followed by the Consortium's annual meeting. So Old Man Schwarz finally announced his successor and heir. Thus the wheel of fate began to turn for The Consortium once more. Which direction would it take in the future forthcoming?

She sighed and started flipping through the pages of the book before her. It was a book about witchcraft and the belief in the power of names. It was an old belief of several cultures that knowing the true name would give one control over the named. It was believed that there was power in names.

And she believed it true, though not in the ways of old. She knew it true because she knew. Was it not true that knowing the right names could do wonders for your career?

She laughed. If only people knew. There was power in the naming of names. Even now, Project Nemesis and Project Atlantis were racing towards completion. Yet how many understood the implication of those names? They could not see the power only because they did not believe.

And she mused while she drank her organic tea, over how would people react to the true name of the Consortium. Would they tremble in fear? Or would they continue happily on with life in blessed ignorance?

God, she was so tired. And a part of her rejoiced in the choice of the heir. She knew his true name. And she knew that with him, she could finally see the end.

**_18 _**

It was late in the evening, and the Annual Stakeholders' meeting was long over.

Reginald Schwarz sat alone in his personal study in his penthouse and watched the video that his agent passed to him. It showed his grandson in conversation with another young man. And after his grandson left, that young man was still standing there staring.

"So the Hardys' are on to it…" He had expected that to happen eventually. But not this soon. Not this soon at all.

Then again, perhaps he could consider this an opportunity to test out the effectiveness of Project Alice. How much would Joseph remember?

He skimmed through the dossier before him. Frank Hardy, the elder brother. Harvard Law graduate. Additional diploma in computing and mathematics. Excel in athletics. A Karate black belt. Numerous cases under his belt, including a number for the Network, and elite branch of the FBI. Highly intelligent, meticulous, with an eye for details.

Resourceful. Extremely resourceful. How did young Frank manage to get access to the company's shares on such short notice?

That made it twice now that Frank had surprised him. First with the monetary transactions. And now this. No, he would not underestimate that young man again.

Then to compare and contrast to the younger brother, it's no wonder the two made such a good team, the old man thought as he read through the summary of the cases the brothers solved while they were still in high school.

He leaned back into his chair, deep in thoughts as he considered his next move. The Hardys would soon knock on his door, and he would be ready for them. His thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"Come in." He ordered.

Ehlana walked in. "You asked for me?"

"Yes, come here and watched this."

She did.

"I want you to find out from Paul what that conversation was all about."

"Of course, grandpa…"

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**Please review!**

**NB: This is possibly the last posting of this story here on ffnet due to a lack of interest in it, so as to focus on my other ffnet HB stories. For future readers, I apologise...  
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**Ragna and Jimmy - good thing there are no other current readers well at least not those already not on my mailing list...anyway, if you email me your email, I'll add you to my story discussion list so you can see the end of this if you are still interested after reading this last bit. I really hope you like it . I would really hate losing my last two readers for this story lol.**

**sighs. After I finish with my existing stock of HB fanfic, I will also be quitting HB fanfic to move back to my preferred Scifi/fantasy/mystery writing. This venture into HB had been fun, but guess I am not quite doing well here, given my rather eccentric sense and choice of writing. Why did I bother to write this here? lol, only because I knew hardly anyone would be reading. ****To the few who have enjoyed my short journey into the HB world, a toast to you. And thanks very much for your patronage. All my other HB fanfic will be continued until reviews run out. Cheers.  
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	10. Chapter 9

**Guess I'll try another posting to see how it goes... and will continue if there is enough interest to keep me posting...yes I admit this story is a little 'close to home' for me... but it is clearly written under really bad weather... figuratively and literally... and I am tired of hoping for reviews and comments to find ... nothing... If I need to, I'll move this back into my writing-discussion group just so I can finish it... so please forgive me... I hate unfinished works as much as you do...**

Definition of Discussion: Consideration of a subject by a group; A formal discourse on a topic; an exposition.

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**RagnaIce: Thanks for your comments, I like Reginald too ... though that's not my fave character here ... can you guess who is? Thanks for your email, I will continue to send you the chapters even if I stop posting here...but I hope it wont come to that...  
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**Red Hardy: Your comments as usual helps me to improve on what was written. I'm glad you like that brother meeting scene. I hope this bit will continue to intrigue you... and I am glad you also like Guardian and also Comic Books ... lol ... though I think I need a break there - first person writing is emotionally draining... yeah, I know, I got this thing for the 'weird' but I can't help it...**

**Bhar: Thanks for thinking it an interesting story **

**PK: You're right as usual about the 'missing' Joe perspective. **

To everyone else: Thanks for commenting and reading when you did, and I hope you will enjoy this posting, I truly do...

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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 9 **

_I disliked foggy mornings. The whiteness was cold and wet. Most of all it obscured your vision. And you could not see what lies ahead. Not till it was too late. –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

**_20 _**

He could not help but be in good spirits as he turned into the driveway at the corner of Elm Street. He had seen his brother and they had chatted. They had 'clicked', just like in the old days.

For the hundredth time, he reached for that name card. Oh yes, he would be definitely calling on 'Paul' soon. He carefully replaced that very valuable name card in a secured compartment of his wallet before getting out of the car and into the house.

As expected, his mother and fiancé was waiting for him. What he did not expect was to see Phil Cohen there as well. All of them turned their expectant faces towards him as soon as they saw him come through the door.

"How did it go? You did get to see Joe?" Phil asked.

"Did you manage to get to talk to him?" Callie wanted to know.

"Did he show any signs of recognition at all?" Laura demanded.

He stood there at the threshold into the house and stare at them for a moment. Then he broke into a smile.

"It went well. I got to see Joe and to talk to him. We even got to work together to save a waitress from serious injury. No he did not recognize me… BUT there are some very promising signs that a lot of old Joe's still there…and if you let me have some food to warm my starving and half frozen insides, I'll tell you the entire tale…"

A while later, Frank seated himself comfortably in his favorite couch in his parent's living room chewing on his mom's roast beef sandwich. Everyone had opted for finger food in the living room in place of a proper dinner so they can get to hear about the meeting.

But the door bell rang before Frank could even start on his first sentence. Callie went to get the door, and they were surprise when Sam Radley walked in. Sam was his dad's partner at their detective agency, and also a close family friend.

"Hi. Sorry to have to come in at such a late hour. But Fenton called and asked if I could organize this teleconference and yes he would be grateful if you are willing to help out, Phil… he's got some new leads and concerns…"

"Sure Sam…" Frank responded. "But how did you know that we would all be here?"

"I got my sources, Frank," Sam replied with a chuckle. "And I did happened to find out how a Mr. Frank Hardy manage to get access to one exclusive shareholders annual meeting at the Ritz Carlton today…"

Frank turned red. "Guess that means Dad knew as well?"

"What do you think?"

**_21 _**

It did not take long for all of them to settle into Fenton's private study. Then Sam made the call. Frank was surprised to see that the international calling code was for France and not England.

"Your father's now in Paris," Sam told them as they waited for Fenton to answer the phone.

The case must have progressed further than expected, Frank thought.

"Hello, Fenton here."

"Fenton, Sam here. Everyone's here as you requested."

"How did you end up in Paris, Dad?" Frank asked.

"I'll get to that later… there's been some unexpected development on the Nigel and Sarah boating accident case."

Everyone in the room perked up in interest.

"As you already know, there are circumstantial evidences of foul play regarding the boating accident, but nothing was ever proven. The case was quickly brought to a close by the High Commissioner, and the deaths declared accidental…"

"We already know that from the news, Dad…"

"Well, under a stroke of luck, I find out that there was someone keeping an eye on the yatch in the weeks preceding the so-called accident. I also obtained a sketch and Detective Conner has helped to identify him as Conrad Deemer, a free-for-hire mercenary. I tracked him to Spain. He went to several homes which I found out belong to a Dr. Eufemiano Fuentes…"

"Isn't that the Doctor who was accused of administering prohibited doping products to over 200 professional athletes?" Phil asked.

When everyone looked at him for further explanation, Phil added, "He was recently implicated in the Operación Puerto doping case, which resulted in a number of the top contenders for the Tour De France, currently going on in France, being dropped from the race…"

"Very good Phil…" Fenton said.

"Hmm… sounds like a good opportunity for bookies…" Frank commented.

"That's correct, Frank. The consequences of the 'leak' of the investigation to the media resulted in a total change in the betting landscape for the current race. With all the key players out, it became much harder to predict the winner. At least for the general public… Someone's going to win big or was going to lose big, possibly…"

"So what's your point, Fenton?" Sam asked.

"I had Conner checked the bank accounts for me, and discovered that Deemer's under the same pay check for both the Schwarz boating accident and this doping scandal… and it traced back to a Trident Technological Enterprise…"

"Trident!" Both Laura and Callie gasped.

"Trident was one of the names Sarah encoded for us in that letter," Frank explained to Phil. "But what has a technology company got to do with sports betting?" Frank wondered, curious. "And Dad, any idea what SANSL might stand for? I've tried searching but come up with nothing… "

"I've no idea yet, Frank. We just have to carry on searching… but I am calling this conference on a more immediate concern. I also had an old friend here help look over where Paul, I mean Joe, stayed before he left for the states. Jackie, reported to me that there were apparently two groups of people keeping an eye on Joe over that time period. In fact, Joe noticed one of the groups and had a restraining order put out against them… then soon after that, there was a failed abduction attempt…I presume its from the other group…"

"What…"

But Fenton continued, ignoring the attempted interruption. "Jackie chased up on the restraining orders, and it seems those two under restraining orders were hired by Mr. Reginald Schwarz himself…"

"That means Mr. Schwarz knew something…" Frank commented, his eyes narrowed as he ran through plausible scenarios in his mind.

"Not necessary, he may just know that something is not right about his son's death and that's why he wanted his Paul and his wife back in the States where it may be safer for them…Fenton, do you know if Schwarz hire any other PI on the case?" Sam added his two cents.

"That's a good question, Sam. So far, no. At least not that I can see, but maybe you can take another look from your side?" Fenton said.

"Sure, Fenton." Sam answered.

"Anyway, I followed Deemer to Paris. I wonder whether his being in Paris has anything to do with the Tour de France, since the race will be ending here in a couple of days' time… I'll try to corner him somehow…But I have to go soon. I'm meeting an old pal of mine in the Police Nationale… I was just thinking that maybe we can move the case from your side…"

"What do you want us to do, dad?" Frank asked.

"I think its time we approach Reginald Schwarz regarding our concern over the suspicious death of his son and daughter-in-law.."

"But didn't you say that…"

"No," Fenton interrupted. "We will not mention Joe. But we do need to get closer to them, not alienate ourselves from them. And we will be going in as 'family'. After all, Sarah and Laura are sisters, and that makes 'Paul' your cousin, Frank. And we do have legitimate reason to be concern over Paul's safety and of course to want justice for Sarah's suspicious death…"

And Frank felt excitement rising within him. Any excuse to get closer to Joe was good as far as he was concern.

"Sam mentioned that you might like me to help out, Mr. Hardy." Phil enquired.

"Yes Phil, I was wondering if we could use your hacking skills here… if you could help with searching for all information concerning Trident Technologies? Like who are the stakeholders, their cash flow, their business… but most importantly, we want the stuff that's not on public domain…"

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Hardy," Phil promised.

"Thanks Phil…and now Frank, I have like five minutes before I have to leave the hotel. So why don't you tell me about your meeting with Joe in a nutshell?"

**_22 _**

I dreamed of a stormy night and a stormy sea. I tossed and turned in my bed, as if it was the waves tossing and turning me. That was my elusive nightmare, I now knew.

Yet that dream felt so familiar to me, like it had been a constant companion. I know not why.

I delved deeper into my mind, and before me a high wall loomed. I squinted against the misty stormy night, and realize that wall was the face of a cliff. And it stood tall and forbidding before me.

Then I woke up in cold sweat. I wonder why?

**_23 _**

"That went well!" Frank grumbled after he and Sam were politely shown their way out of the Schwarz Building.

"Just relax, Frank. How did you expect that proud old man to react when we did imply that he needed our help to see to the safety of his grandson…" Sam Radley said.

"He should... especially after that failed abduction attempt in London…"

Sam shook his head in resignation. Six years clearly did not change human nature much, and Frank's a living and breathing testament to that. "Frank, be reasonable. That man has no reason to trust …"

"Anyway, I will be taking another look at the two guys Schwarz hired to guard Joe in London." Frank cut off Sam's voice of reason. He knew, but he just didn't want to hear it.

"That might be a good idea, Frank," Sam concurred, as he threw his friend's son a concerned look.

**_24 _**

Reginald Schwarz walked casually into the classy restaurant located in the building just two blocks away from his office block. He headed straight for the corner where an old lady sat reading her book.

"Good afternoon, my lady Yates. I see you are still as engrossed in reading as ever." Schwarz greet as he leaned down to give her a gentle peck on her cheek.

"And you, Schwarz, are still as charming as ever." Yates replied with an easy laugh as she closed her book.

It would be easy for anyone watching them to see the closeness and camaraderie between them.

"The Consortium annual meeting went very well, considering this is your chosen heir's first appearance." Yates commented.

"Yes, Paul handled himself very well." Schwarz responded, the pride clear in his tone.

"I would say that 'Paul' had matured exceedingly well from I last met him seven years hence, Schwarz… "

"But I do expect that you know Paul's real identity… after all, it's your intellectual son who did a fine job on that young man." Schwarz said.

"…and I would say that I will not be the only one making that observation." Yates looked directly at her good friend as she finished her sentence.

"Ah, so who else is … extremely interested in my grandson?" Schwarz queried as his eyes narrowed.

"I watched Krycek observing Paul closely the entire evening, Schwarz. And I dare say your chosen heir exhibited great sense in not liking him either…"

**_25 _**

He was halfway through his lunch break when his mobile rang.

"Frank Hardy here."

"This is Reginald Schwarz speaking."

He stopped eating his lunch."Yes?"

"I've given some thought to what you and your partner said a couple of days back…" Schwarz paused, and Frank sat up straighter in his chair. His heart started to pound…

"Your credentials checked out fine and I must admit that they are impressive… and since your mother and Sarah are sisters, which make you a relation…"

"What are you trying to say, Mr. Schwarz?" Frank asked as he fought to temper his excitement.

"Since it is clear that my grandson is still at risk…and… well… until we can figure out the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of my son and Sarah, I would like to hire you as Paul's personal bodyguard…"

**_26 _**

Several days later, Reginald Schwarz watched Frank Hardy as he sat in the comfortable chair opposite him as they waited for Paul to arrive.

Young Frank had taken him up on his offer, just as he and Yates had expected.

He was sure that Frank must have consulted his father and they must have discussed the implications. And he had personally talked to Mr. Hardy over his offer.

If only Fenton had agreed to let Frank stay with them in New York City… after all they were supposed to be 'family'. But Fenton had as much reason to be careful of him as he had for the well-known investigator…

**_27 _**

He had taken up the offer after discussing the situation through with Sam and his father. They had agreed with him that it was currently the best solution. He could keep an eye on Joe most of the time, and the proximity also offers them the opportunity to jiggle Joe's memory from time to time. And after a while, he could even invite 'Paul' home for a meal or something…

His father, Fenton, had ringed Schwarz, and together they had threshed out a plausible scenario for Frank to stay close to Paul during most of his working hours. Fenton had turned down Schwarz's offer for Frank to stay with them, and insisted that Frank commute from Bayport to New York City daily.

So here he was, dressed in formal work-wear, armed with his resume and a job application form.

Frank supposed he was grateful to his father for insisting he commute from home. Given that he did not know how long the entire 'project' was going to last, he would have a hard time trying to explain to Callie if he was to leave her alone for too long a period of time. He was sure Callie wouldn't mind, but it just would not be right. Nor would it be fair for her. And their wedding's just a couple of months away now. Again, he wondered if Joe will be there as his best man. He knew Phil would understand, and Callie had told him last night that she wanted that too…

**_28 _**

There was a single sharp rap on the door.

"Come in," Mr. Schwarz called out.

The door opened and Paul walked in.

Reginald watched the interplay between Paul and Frank with interest.

"Good morning, Grandpa… and hello Frank…" Paul greeted.

"I see you two already met before…" He commented

"Yes, we met at the Annual Stakeholders' Meeting," Paul told him.

"I see…Paul, Frank's the son of an old friend of mine. I caught his job application… he does have an impressive CV… and I've hired him as your Executive Personal Assistant. I am sure you will find him a great help given your current work load."

He watched Paul turn to Frank and gave him a warm smile, "Welcome to Schwarz Shipping, I'm sure we'll get along well…"

"Frank? My secretary will show you around… if you'd excuse us, I would like to speak with Paul."

"Sure." Frank gave a quick nod and left with the secretary.

After Frank left the room, Reginald gestured his grandson over to the window. For a while they both stood there enjoying the city view.

"How do you like the new PA I hired you?" He asked.

He watched as his grandson raise an inquiring brow as he commented, "What's the deal with Frank? He's not just the son of an old friend, is he?"

"You said you are interested in the mind behind the mathematical model that tracked our transfers… and I just delivered him to you."

He watched as Paul's eyes gleamed with interest.

"I see," he responded.

"Take good care of him."

"Of course, Grandpa…"

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**Please review and comment... and there's always the pm function and email if you are shy...  
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	11. Chapter 10

**Thanks!  
**

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**To everyone who so generously read, reviewed and commented, a BIG BIG thank you! I really appreciated every single one... and I would have to be greedy in asking for your continued support. So please do continue to be generous in your enjoyment and comments!**

**Hmmm... why doesn't anyone like grandpa Reg? He's just an old man!!!**

**Please also note that I have finally given that 'Intellectual' a name... Ieuan Yates, son of that mysterious old lady Yates. I will update all the previous chapters with his presence later. It bothered me not having names to faces...**

**Finally, this took a while because I was distracted by another story I was writing for another friend. My apologies.  
**

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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 10 **

_The wind was blowing away the rain clouds. Soon the skies are blue again. The air was crisp and cool and clean. How utterly refreshing! –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

**_29 _**

Thierry Durand was sipping his Evian mineral water and reading his papers when his cell phone rang. He recognized the voice on the other end instantly.

"It's done, sir. Everything will be as you planned."

"Your contribution is noted, Durand. And Hardy? He is in Paris, isn't he?"

"_Oui_. I just met up with him."

"What did he want?"

"He met up with me to convey his suspicions regarding potential foul play in the Tour de France… He followed Deemer here. He managed to link Deemer to the suspicious death of his sister-in-law."

"Do whatever is necessary to make sure Hardy progress no further."

**_30 _**

Phil Cohen was making his way back to his office after an unexpected emergency board meeting. He had left his office in a hurry and had forgotten to securely put away the bit of investigative work he was doing for the Hardys. No one should be looking through his notes anyway. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry in such matters.

He opened his office door and he stopped breathing for an instant.

_Oh no… _

His girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, was sitting at his table staring at his computer screen. He could see the streaks of tears on her cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Vanessa demanded.

"Van…" Phil started, and then realized he really had no idea what to say to her.

Phil closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He knew this would come up eventually, but he did not expect her to stumble onto it like that. No, not like that at all. He should have remembered to securely put away those notes.

"He's married…"

His heart went out to her at the disbelief in her voice.

They had been going out for almost four years now. In fact, he was thinking of proposing to her on her coming birthday. He shook his head and laughed at the idiosyncrasies of fate. He had always known that Vanessa loved Joe. It had taken her two years after Joe's 'death' before she even started dating. He knew even then that she had not really gotten over Joe. And he had thought himself exceedingly fortunate that he managed to win her over back then.

And now Joe's still alive. But he was also married.

"Yes, he's married…" Phil confirmed what Vanessa already read off the internet.

"He doesn't remember me…" Vanessa asked in a soft voice as she stared at his handwritten notes.

"No..."

"Maybe Frank's wrong… maybe that's really Paul…" Vanessa babbled, her tone pleading.

"No Van… Frank and his father already have the DNA proof, Paul really is Joe…"

That was when Vanessa broke down and cried. She cried for what might have been. She cried for what could never be.

And Phil held her as she cried.

**_31 _**

It was a Monday morning and the start of his second week at work at Schwarz Shipping. He had spent the weekend reading up on the shipping trade and there was so much to take in, he was currently suffering from information overload.

He helped himself to a fresh cup of coffee from the infamous well-stocked Schwarz pantry before making his way into his office. Frank could not help but snicker as he recalled the article he read in the New York Times on how Schwarz spoilt his employees with pure Arabica coffee, Belgian chocolates, daily supplies of fresh French pastries or Japanese sushi, and Haagen-Daaz ice cream. He can now confirm that article was true to every word. The journalist had not exaggerated.

He opened the door and stared at the state of his office in total disbelief.

It was a mess.

But it was a very Joe-mess; Frank could not help that tiny bit of happiness in that little corner of his heart.

He shook his head in resignation, and in contentment. His baby brother was his baby brother regardless of name and memories. And as far as he could remember, his baby brother always got the best of him. _Almost always_, Frank amended as he smiled in fond remembrance of those days.

What happened here exactly?

Well, 'Paul' clearly saw it fit to move into his PA's office and made himself at home. His excuse? He needed space to work, and he needed a neat and official looking office to meet up with clients and employees.

And 'Paul' had the temerity to thank Frank for his sacrifice and for being so understanding. The whole thing was over and settled before Frank could even get in a word or do anything about it. It was galling, how his baby brother could still get under his skin just like that.

_'That's because you let him, Frank.'_ His little voice told him.

He made his way to his table, the only tidy part of the room, stared at what was left so carelessly before him, and before he knew it, he was laughing out loud.

On his table was the printout of an article from The Economist called 'In Praise of Clutter'.

_Ah Joe… _

There was a knock on the door and Frank found himself looking into a pair of brown eyes so like his own.

"Good morning, Frank! How's your weekend?"

That was Ehlana. Joe's wife. No Paul. No Joe…

He sighed inwardly. Paul's wife, he told himself firmly. Paul, until he and dad could get the entire mess figured out and cleared up… or until Joe remembers.

"I had a lovely weekend, thanks for asking…"

Ehlana walked into the room and eyed the mess before her right next to him. She shook her head, but Frank could see that little smile dancing on her lips and the twinkle in her eyes.

"Thanks for taking him in, Frank. I refuse to share my office with him for obvious reasons…"

Frank could see the genuine sympathy in her eyes. The two of them shared a moment of commiseration.

"I can try to talk to Paul about this," Ehlana offered.

_Clearly she did not believe her 'talk' will be effective_, Frank thought dryly.

"Its okay, Ehlana; as long as he leaves my table alone… I had a brother who's equally messy…"

Frank acknowledged he made a mistake there and then. He vowed to be more vigilant and careful from now on. His father had been right on about it being difficult taking a case that was too close to the heart.

"Had?"

Frank did not bother to answer, but Ehlana must have noted the hurt in his eyes, for she did not push him for an answer. For which Frank was grateful.

He liked her a lot, and had no doubt mom and dad would too.

**_32 _**

Later that night, Ehlana sat absentmindedly brushing her hair at her vanity table. She watched her husband via the reflection in the mirror before her. He was lying on his stomach on their king-sized bed intently studying the pile of papers scattered around him. Every once in a while, he would scribble some notes on the side.

"Still studying Frank's profile?"

"Yes."

"You like him a lot." She made her observation.

Paul paused for a moment before gathering up the papers and returning them into the folder.

"Yes, I do like him a lot."

"But?"

"It won't be easy persuading him over to our side…"

"I'm sure you'll find a way, love… and you already had him a little rattled today." Ehlana smiled as she recalled the split second reaction on Frank's face when he realized the mistake he made and Paul's look of satisfaction when she described in detail what happened.

"I do have the advantage at the moment, Ehla…"

"But not for long, Paul. Not from what I read from the very detailed dossier you got there…and I do not think Frank is the type who will make the same mistake twice." Ehlana commented.

"I totally agree, Ehla…"

"But I think you already found a weak spot, Paul." She turned around and faced her husband. "And your next move? Will you let it be known that you know he's your cousin?"

"Soon, Ehla, soon… first we get closer to him. And I will look for the opportunity to use that bit of information to our best advantage."

"So you are planning to…"

"Yes Ehla, I plan to replace the brother he lost…"

**_33 _**

Detective James Conner had to worked at containing his excitement as he waited for his currently-on-long-vacation-partner, Maggie Lam, to pick up her phone. He just got his hands on the test results today and they now had confirmation that Mr. Black in Bangkok was really Mr. Nigel Schwarz.

He admitted that he had been skeptical when Maggie first told him about it. It was Fenton Hardy's sheer reputation that had made him ask Maggie to try to obtain a DNA sample for testing. And she did, by asking Mr. Black out for coffee and then snitching his coffee mug.

Conner knew that making it as a famous detective was not just about skills. It was also about luck. There were thousands of equally talented investigators in the world, yet only a handful made it to the 'famous' list. Fenton Hardy was one of those with the luck, or bad luck, to be at the right place in the right time.

Fenton was there. He solved the case. He made his name. That was how things are in the real world.

Now, he was on it too. He had no doubt this was going to be big, and he intended to be part of it. He frowned. He wondered where that detective was at the moment. He had sent several emails and there had been no response…

"Hello, Maggie here."

"Maggie!"

"Yes James?"

"The test results confirm that Black is indeed Schwarz…"

James could almost see Maggie perking up in her seat, if she was sitting that is.

"I knew it!"

James smiled at that. He knew Maggie was just as excited and as curious as to what was going on regarding that boating accident case. Then his expression turned serious. It's time to get back to work.

"Maggie, I need you to get close to Black. Find out all you can about him; when he arrived in Bangkok, what are his plans… the usual..."

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**Please review and comment... and there's always the pm function and email if you are shy...  
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	12. Chapter 11

**Thanks! I guess you guys would be tired of me begging for reviews. I am tired too. So there won't be anymore of those. And this story will continue to be posted as long as there are enough parties keen for it to continue to be posted.  
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**Here's the next installment. To all who reviewed, thanks very much. I really appreciated them.**

**PK: Thanks. And Z said to email for your password. Manhat's all already there, and all forward sections of Storm. And 'Frank', I need help with that devious clue VM set... ('Jo') And yup, I think the memory flashes are coming along nicely.  
**

**Liz: Don't worry, Frank's got the advantage here still ;p How could he not when he's 'Real' and Paul's not?  
**

**AnJellyCa: Please don't die of anticipation yet... I need my AnJellyCa-views and my OMGs and my WOWs...**

**Blue and Bees: thanks and please continue in your generous commentary.  
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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 11 **

_There was sunshine from skies. Yet my mood permitted me to enjoy them not. Instead I focused on the alto-Columbus clouds sitting placidly in the distance. I could just make out the grey and burdened underbelly.I knew there were more storms incoming. –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

**_34 _**

Fenton Hardy was panting, though he tried hard to hide that fact. He was really getting too old for this; gallivanting around the globe tailing his suspects. He had been following Deemer for a while now. He had managed to bug Deemer's room and knew that he was meeting one of his superiors today. For his son's sake, he needed to know who the players in the next level were.

Instead, he witnessed an execution.

He had watched from the corner at the end of the alleyway where the meeting took place. He watched as the other man, dressed in dark clothes with his hat pulled low to hide his features, pulled out a silencer and shot Deemer point blank.

That guy did not even have a chance, Fenton thought, shocked at the speed at which the entire incident happened.

Then the executioner began to move. And Fenton followed him from the alley onto the busy Paris sidewalk, taking care not to be spotted. Now that Deemer was dead, this unknown assassin was his next lead. He could not afford to lose track of that assassin. He needed at least some clue as to the identity or the person or persons behind that killer.

Then in the next corner, he crashed into someone.

"Fenton!" a voice called out his name as a pair of arms caught him and prevented him from tripping over.

"Durand…" Fenton gritted out.

He strained his neck to see where the killer had gone. He had lost sight of him. Damned!

He turned his attention tiredly back to Durand, who was trying to talk to him.

"What are you doing here, Fenton?" Durand asked.

Fenton almost answered, but he held himself back just on time. Suddenly he did not trust the French policeman before him, though he had yet to place the reason.

"Trying to see if I can spot Deemer in the crowd somewhere… you know I am out of leads, Durand…" He hoped that Durand would swallow that, but to be certain he added another distraction. "By the way, did you manage to get anything else of the potential bookie fraud over the Tour de France?"

Then after a short conversation whereby Durand admitted that the Police Nationale had came up with nothing, Fenton excused himself and left.

As he walked away, he realized why he was suspicious of Durand. He could smell gunpowder when that man reached out to stabilize him. And now that he replayed the entire incident in his mind, it occurred to him that both the assassin and Durand had similar build.

How very interesting.

**_35 _**

Durand waited till Fenton Hardy was out of sight before his face turned into a scowl. He took out his cell phone and pressed a series of numbers.

"I think Hardy suspects me."

There was a short pause on the other end before the response came.

"Do not worry. Hardy is already being taken care of."

**_36 _**

It was Friday, and Frank was taking a break with 'Paul' at a nearby Starbuck's. It had been a long week, and 'Paul' was having as hard a time as him learning and mastering the intricacies of the shipping industry.

Schwarz Shipping was divided into four main divisions: Bulk, Container, Gas/Oil, and Research. 'Paul' currently headed the Container division of Schwarz Shipping, and managed a fleet of over thirty Container Vessels that transport of manufactured goods across the globe. It was a daunting task and Frank was surprised that his brother had the patience to go through the logistics and the numbers. Then again, he had a feeling that a lot more of the number bit would be landing on his lap as soon as 'Paul' figure out about his knack for numbers…

Hence he really appreciated it when 'Paul' called for a coffee break and they headed out and away from Schwarz Building. He jumped at the chance to spend some private social time with his brother, away from what he considered the prying eyes of Schwarz Shipping.

There, they had chatted easily just like the old times.

'Paul' told him about his adventures with his parents and that of his time at Oxford.

In return, Frank had talk about his time at Harvard, and shared some of his old adventures with his younger brother.

He carefully chose the few experiences that Joe treasured. He watched 'Paul' closely as he narrated those stories. He used, from memory, the exact same gestures and animations that Joe did when his younger brother narrate those few adventures. And he could not help but feel a little disappointed when they failed to trigger any spark of memory.

And then it was time to go.

Frank sighed. He will try again at the next available opportunity.

They were making their way back to Schwarz Building when Frank caught a quick silvery flash on his peripheral vision. He turned to see a tiny little red dot on his brother's chest. Without thinking he shoved his brother onto the pavement and threw himself over 'Paul'. At the same instant, he thought he heard something whizzed pass his ear.

Next he knew a small crowd was forming around them. And 'Paul' was busy convincing everyone that they were fine. He took a quick glance at the direction where the shot could have come from, but could not see anyone there. It was only logical that the sniper would have been long gone. For that short moment, he just sat back there and enjoyed his brother's natural PR skills in action. Then he started to look around for the bullet.

"Now, do you mind telling me what that was all about?"

Frank returned his attention back to his brother, only to realize that 'Paul' already followed his line of sight and saw the bullet lodged in the wall before them. And he watched his brother's expression turned grim.

"You are not just my PA, are you, Frank?"

The tone was suspicious and mildly accusing. Frank winced. What a record, having his cover blown in less than a fortnight. And also at a time as he was trying to earn Paul's trust. Then again, this was his younger brother he was talking about.

_Except Joe didn't remember who he was… _

_'**Yet**.' _Frank added quietly with steely determination. It would take time, but he would find a way to reawaken those forgotten memories. Whether or not 'Paul' knew, his days were numbered…

Frank turned his full attention back to his brother. He smiled inwardly – one might as well make full use of the opportunity given to him.

"Actually, I am your cousin, your assistant, and your bodyguard, on top of being your PA… now that I have clearly proven my worth, can I ask for a pay rise?"

Frank had to hide a chuckle at his brother's sudden blank expression. He guessed it wasn't often that his little brother got caught out in a verbal riposte. Then he watched as that familiar smile formed slowly on Paul's lips.

"I believe you would have to bring that particular request to your direct employer, cousin mine. But I will make sure grandpa knows you have 'proven your worth' as you say."

"So you knew…"

"That we are cousins? Yes… grandpa told me." Paul arched his brow. "Otherwise you wouldn't have access to our corporate strategy within the first week of your starting work."

"I see," Frank commented as they started on their way back to Schwarz building.

He was surprised when his brother suddenly stopped walking.

"Frank… if I can ask a favor of you?"

"Of course…"

Frank watched as his brother hesitated.

"You can trust me, Paul." He prompted.

"Don't tell grandpa about what happened today…"

Frank opened his mouth, but Paul continued before he could voice his thoughts.

"Can I trust you to keep this to yourself?" Paul asked.

Curious, Frank nodded.

"This is not the first attempt."

_What?! _

"The first attempt was while I was still in London. Though on the record, that incident was recorded as a failed attempted abduction. But Frank… That was attempted murder."

"But the police report stated that you agree that it was a kidnapping attempt…"

He watched as his brother sighed. "I did not want grandpa to worry more than he already was, so I agreed with the police back then… This is the third attempt…"

_Third?! _

"You can tell me… I'm a detective. That's why I was hired in the first place." Frank prompted again.

"I know what you are. And that Hardys Investigations has quite a reputation …" Paul said.

Then he added. "I did do a little bit of research into your background when grandpa passed me your CV. … oh well…"

So Frank listened as his brother gave him a quick briefing of the previous two attempts. He had to swallow a crow of delight as he ascertain that his brother still kept his ability to spot important details that were crucial to solving a case.

"Thanks for listening, Frank."

"Don't worry, cousin mine. We'll get to the bottom of this mystery?"

"We? Mystery?"

Was that a flicker in his brother's eyes or was it his imagination? But there was no mistaking that almost wistful smile on his face.

"Yes. We." Frank stated empathically, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Your grandpa hired me to protect you from kidnappers, not murderers. So unless you intended to tell him, or hire me on your own account, I am afraid you'll have to do some detective work there… and I, as your cousin, will of course assist you for free."

Now, there was definitely a flicker of something beyond interest in Paul's eyes!

"Perhaps we can meet up somewhere over the weekend to discuss this further…" Paul suggested.

"Mom always prepares a gourmet meal every Sunday, how about dropping by for tea? I am sure she would love to meet you… and we can have our talk after that…"

"Since I don't have any plans for this weekend, my dear cousin, I would say that is a distinct possibility. I'll have to check with Ehla first… But I'm sure Ehla would love to meet Aunt Laura…"

**_37 _**

Ehlana was taken by surprise by their disheveled appearance when they finally made their way back into their shared office. Her expression quickly turned into one of concern when 'Paul' explained what happened.

She gave Frank a grateful smile before returning her full attention to her husband, checking through thoroughly and making sure he was not hurt in any way.

Then she did the same for Frank… who was clearly chafing under her scrutiny.

_'Just bear with it, its quicker and much less painful that way'_ was Paul's only advice for Frank.

Ehlana had to hide her smile of amusement as she watched Frank submit quite resignedly to her ministrations.

_Laura and Callie must both be quite a personality_, she thought.

"Okay Paul dear… what exactly happened out there?" Ehlana demanded to know as soon as the security cameras show Frank driving off.

"Exactly what I told you, Ehla…"

Ehlana blinked in surprise.

"You mean that was not part of your plan?"

"No. Of course not. There is no need for such drama in my plan. And it is now clear someone really wants me dead. This is their third attempt, by the way." Paul told her. "The first, as you know, was in London. The second was last week and now this… And Ehla, Frank really saved my life today."

Then Paul added in a much softer voice and a shake of his head. "And I don't really know why, but I told Frank about the first two attempts. I hoped I won't regret it…"

Ehlana knew there was something there, but she wasn't quite getting it. She was focusing on something else.

"So Frank really did save your life…" She murmured.

Then the truth of what happened suddenly hit her, and she threw herself into her husband's arms. "Oh my god! I almost lost you again today. I almost lost you…"

**_38 _**

That night I dreamt of a storm-tossed night.

My head hurts. Around me the monstrous waves rose and fell, and the winds howled its fury above me. And I was struggling desperately to hold on to this piece of driftwood.

I was there all alone in the dark churning waters.

Then suddenly a dark and forbidding wall loomed before me. I fought against my fear and looked up.

I saw a pair of desperate brown eyes, so much like Ehla's, staring down at me…

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**Please review and comment... and there's always the pm function and email if you are shy...  
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	13. Chapter 12

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**Here's the next bit.**

**I'm sorry this took a while. The story board is completed, but it was harder to write it out than expected. I did not want to repeat the mistake I made with the last 2 chapters. It is difficult to pick which part to write out and which part to leave behind. And then the writing itself is also harder than expected. **

**I am grateful for the reviews and comments. I hope this bit is still as enjoyable, even though it is not the action part. But it is a scene that have to happen. I was also personally happy to have a scene where Laura can play a role...**

**Please do continue to be as generous and as supportive  
**

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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 12 **

_The rain poured and the wind howled. Within the safety of a little home with a sturdy roof, dinner was being served. Who would have thought a simple dinner would be so difficult to put into words? But ah, dinner was where everything comes together; so sayeth the man of the house. –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

**_39 _**

Sam Radley was worried. Fenton had missed his last check-in.

And Sam had already checked all alternative sources of contact; emails, voice mails, and fax.

Sure they had a 48 hour lee-way in the case of international check-in times, just in case something happened. But Fenton rarely if ever miss his check-ins. His partner always anticipated his actions and left notice if he were to be late or if he had to miss a call. This was very unlike his partner. Sam spared another glance at the clock. It was almost 48 hours.

He wondered if he should call Frank.

Finally Sam made the decision he would wait till dinner time before heading over to the Hardy residence. It was a Sunday today, and he knew that Frank would be there with his fiancée.

And Fenton disappearance was not something they could keep from Laura. Not this time…

**_40 _**

I felt this sense of déjà vu as I drove into Bayport.

It bothered me greatly.

Yes, there was Bayport Elementary and Bayport High, where the brothers spent a decade of their lives together.

And round that corner, yes, that was the famed Mr. Pizza where the brothers spent many hours with their best friends.

Somehow, I could almost see the tables and chairs in that eatery. And there was this robust man twirling pizza base, flipping it over and over into the air before laying it down for the fillings, and then there was Frank passing me this huge slab of pizza. I could almost taste it…

I shook my head to clear those images. No; to clear those sights, those sounds, and those aromas. I might have spent the bulk of last night reading through Joseph's very detailed dossier. But this… this level of familiarity was still ridiculous!

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

I could see Ehla eyeing me, concern clear in her eyes. I gave her a quick smile to let her know I was fine.

"Tense?" She asked.

"A little," I told her.

"Don't worry; you're still her nephew, Paul." Ehla said. "She'll have to start off liking you…"

I gave her a sidelong glance.

"You're also a little tense yourself." I said.

She let out a little laugh.

"Will Aunt Laura like me?" She wondered. "We needed her to if you want to get closer to Frank…"

"I don't think you'll have a problem with Laura, Ehla…" I told her. "My main concern is Frank's fiancée, Callie Shaw."

"Why is that?" She asked, curious.

"Cal's always a little jealous of the closeness between Frank and his younger brother. So she may not be as receptive to us getting too close to Frank." I told her.

"Ah, I see. That's quite an intimate piece of detail you got from the dossier. Albert must have been really thorough…" She commented.

Her comment shook me a little. That bit of detail was not in the files. How did I know? I was starting to feel an unease rising in my guts.

"Yes… Albert is grandpa's best agent." I lied.

I actually lied to Ehla…

That surprised me.

"Grandpa's very protective of us; I was surprise he let us drive here on our own. I thought he was going to insist we take his chauffeur and limo." Ehla said.

I chuckled.

"Albert's always around Ehla." I said to her in an amused voice.

She raised her brow at me.

"Look through your side mirror or the rear view mirror, dear. You will see a dark blue sedan about three cars behind us…"

And I watched as Ehla did as I told her, her expression first curious, then a little irate, and finally resigned. Then she shook her head and laugh.

"I should have known, Paul. You really don't mind being followed like that?"

"Grandpa's old, Ehla. If this makes him feel better, I don't have a problem with it… as long as Albert keeps his distance."

I turned down High Street, and finally the Hardy residence slide into view. It was a lovely two-storey building. I could almost imagine two boys running havoc over the front porch, and then there was this tree house in the backyard…

Again I shivered at those visions flashing by…

I turned round the corner and parked our sky blue Mercedes on Elm Street. For a short while, I simply sat there in the driver's seat and took a few deep breaths. I was more shaken than I cared to admit.

Then Ehla's voice caught my attention.

"Paul, everything will be fine. I am sure of it." Then her eyes darkened a little, and I noted she looked a little uncomfortable. "Paul, at the end of the day, they are still family and…"

"I know… why not we forget all about the consortium and the Cause for this evening, and simply enjoy our time here with our aunt and cousin, huh?

Ehla smiled. "I like that idea very much, Paul."

I leaned over and gave her a deep and loving kiss before we got out of the car together.

I saw the front door open, and there was Aunt Laura, looking so much like my own mother, standing at the threshold, a warm welcoming smile on her face.

_Ah, how I missed mom… _

**_41 _**

Laura Hardy had been waiting at the window, seeing the cars going pass her home without really seeing them.

Then her heart gave a tiny hitch as she watched a sky blue Mercedes slowed to a stop just after the driveway. She watched as a blond headed young man got out of the driver's seat.

Her breath caught in her throat.

_Yes, that's her son. Definitely her son! _

Her eyes stung, and she furiously wiped away the beginnings of those tears, and firmly willed her tear ducts to behave.

"Frank!" She called out to her eldest. "They're here!"

And seconds later, she heard the rush of footsteps pounding down the stairs. And she could glimpse Callie making her way down behind Frank…

She ignored them both and walked swiftly towards the door and opened it. And she waited, her hands gripping the door knob so tightly her knuckles were white.

She thought of all of Joe's favorite food waiting in the oven and on the stove, all the hours she spent earlier today carefully preparing everything. She wondered if he'd remembered any of those. But no matter, there must be something in this house that would feel familiar to him, and from there, she could slowly work her way to getting her son back, she vowed.

She stood there and watched her youngest make his way towards her, his wife by his side.

She smiled brightly at him, and in her heart, welcomed her long lost son home with open arms.

**_42 _**

Tense.

He felt tightly strung as a bow.

There was tension in the air.

Tension so thick he had to battle for each breath.

The tension was from the efforts to maintain the fiction of nephews meeting aunts and cousins meeting cousins; instead of the reality of reunion between brothers, sons and mother.

And joy.

The joyous contentment of a family finally reunited after over six long years.

The scene before him was _almost_ picture perfect.

He only wished his dad was here too.

Frank sat and watched and quietly mused at the light and happy conversation going on about him. 'Paul' had everyone in stitches as he regaled his many mishaps through his years in Oxford. And Ehlana had collaborated in those tales making, Frank was sure, the stories sound a lot more ridiculous than they were.

Yes, he liked Ehlana a lot. And he knew his mom felt the same. She's perfect for Joe.

He sat there, barely eating his dinner as he watch his brother's every gesture, and every nuance of his expression.

He laughed with everyone else, like everyone else.

But in his heart, he pretended that it was really Joe sitting there. He pretended it was his Joe telling those tales. He pretended that Joe remembered and 'Paul' was gone.

He pretended, and for the duration of that dinner, let himself be lost in the delusion that the last six plus years never happened, and life was like what it was before.

**_43 _**

Dinner was almost over. Laura was happy to see that Joe had polished up his plates, just like he did as a hungry teenager attending Bayport High.

And she listened, totally rapt, to her son's tales.

So many years of her son's life she missed!

This was all because her own sister wanted a son to replace the lost of her own son, Paul. Her own sister stole her son from her. And now she could not openly acknowledge her son, because his life was in danger and he did not know it.

He did not even know who he was!

_Would he be willing to listen even if she told him the truth?_ Laura wondered. _Or would telling drive him away?_

It was not good to speak ill of the dead. But she could not help the anger, almost bordering on hate, at the thought of the woman who stole her son from her. Her very own sister, Sarah…

She had to rein in her scowls when he talked about his mother. He talked about a loving and supportive mother, and how much he missed her and loved her.

_That should have been about me_, Laura's heart cried out.

He talked about a dare devil mother who went cross country skiing and sky-diving with him.

_Okay, I can't do that, Joe. But I am your real mom… and I'm still here…_ Her heart bleeds; she hated Sarah even more.

But she smiled at her son and pretended to miss her sister. Then she felt bad for thinking so cruelly at the dead.

_Why should she?_ Laura suddenly lashed back out.

She looked at her precious blond headed boy again. She mentally traced his features, noting the all the minute differences between her eighteen year old, and this twenty five year old young man before her.

All those years stolen from her; all gone. She could never have them back. Never. And _her_ son loved another for his mother…

Suddenly she felt the tears coming. She stood up abruptly, surprising everyone at the table. She excused herself, mumbling something about bringing out the dessert and rushed out of the dining room into the kitchen.

**_44 _**

Aunt Laura's sudden exit took me by surprise. I did not miss the brightness of unshed tears in her eyes.

For a short instance, I wondered at her actions.

Then I realized why the evening might have been a little stressful on her. I knew I look a lot like Joe. It must have been a constant reminder to have me sitting here.

_Was I still trying to pretend to be like her dead son?_ I wondered and felt a little twinge of guilt. After all, I and Ehla agreed this evening would be family time. I shot Ehla a quick question; she signaled me a 'no' and I felt a little better. I re-ran all my actions through the evening, and yes, I ascertained I was definitely being myself.

Then I remembered all I said about my mother. Aunt Laura must have missed her sister too. It must be the combination of a number of things all folded into the tight space of the last two hours, I decided.

I saw Frank making to follow his mother into the kitchen and forestalled him.

_Let me_, I told him with my eyes.

I watch him hesitate for a moment, and gave me a quick nod and a little smile.

I got up and made my way into the kitchen.

**_45 _**

Once within the privacy and the safety of her very familiar kitchen, Laura let her tears flow. She leaned heavily against the coolness of the refrigerator, and gave in to her aching heart.

She stifled her gut wrenching sobs, even as she cried for her son who did not know his parents were still alive and looking after him. She cried for Frank who had to bear the burden of knowing and pain of faking it all. She cried for herself, for her youngest who was so near, yet so far.

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her. She turned to see those familiar deep blue orbs looking at her, the concern so clear in his eyes. He reached out to hold her, and she let him.

For a while it was Joe holding her. She took that moment and hoarded it jealously.

Finally, she let go of him.

"Thanks," she said as she worked to wiped away her tears and make herself presentable.

She watched her youngest simply shrugged and gave her a shy smile.

"I missed my son…" She said.

The blue orbs reflected his understanding and sympathy.

"Joseph must be very special…" he commented.

She did not miss that tiny little bit of wistfulness in his voice. She wondered at it, and then realized the opportunity before her.

"Yes, Joe is very special…" She said. "But all mothers are bias… would you mind me sharing a bit of him with you? I've kept almost everything in his room the way it was…"

She saw him hesitated for a short while and she held her breath.

He nodded; she could breathe again.

"Come," she said, suddenly excited.

And grabbing his hand, she pulled him up the stairs through the dining hall. She knew he gestured for Ehla to join him, and she knew Frank followed leaving Callie alone at the dining table. But all those mattered not.

What mattered was her son seeing his room. The room she spent the entire yesterday reconstructing…

**_45 _**

I followed Aunt Laura towards Joseph's room, and wondered at why it mattered so much to her that I see it. I stepped through the door after her, and my world stopped.

A quiet stillness took over my surroundings.

The thunderous sound of a sharp indrawn breath drew my attention away from the sight before me. That was from Ehla, I knew.

We were staring at the almost exact replica of my room back in London when I was attending Oxford.

There was the poster of the cherry red Pontiac 1965 GTO gracing the wall by my bed. And that model of Aston Martin DB4 1958 proudly on display on the shelf was the model I drove while studying in Oxford. I restored it myself, and that car was my pride and joy.

I felt Ehla holding on tightly to my hand. I turned to face my wife, and I knew even as I stared into her curious and slightly fearful eyes that confusion shone from the depths of my own eyes.

I could feel both Aunt Laura and Frank staring at me, and I forced myself to ignore that. For the time being… I needed time to sort out the scene before me.

_What does that mean?_ I asked myself my heart pounding fiercely, even as I knew I had no answers.

There was no time to think.

A sharp piercing scream cut through the quiet night and resonated off the walls of the house.

That was Callie.

We all turned as one and raced back down the steps.

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**Please review and comment... and there's always the pm function and email if you are shy...  
**

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	14. Chapter 13

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**Here's the next bit. And yes, it's still the dinner scene. As mentioned before, dinner scenes are just so so hard to write. And so much so when actions are small. I pondered a long while about this, whether or not to finish this bit or to jump back to the consortium. But I decided I really do not like loose ends, and it is time to bring to the open what happened six years ago. **

**And I really really wanted to apologize for taking this long when you guys had taken the effort to write such wonderful reviews. I must confess that I had thought this story was not quite working out, and so started to work on a Halloween Horror-Mystery in hope that it would be more successful. Gingerbread House should be done soon, with Halloween so close, so I can come back to focus on this again, that is, if you guys are still interested. **

**Robin: I'm sorry I can't exactly promise a 'gut-wrenching' story. I've tried and have to admit I don't seem to be able to hit the heartstrings very well. But I can promise poignant and sad and uplifting and tragic and suspenseful pending on chapters.  
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**franknjoe, Mel30: Thanks. I will try The story's finished, I just had to write it out in proper narratives that makes it interesting to read. That's the hard part, I think.  
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**PK: yeah this is one story I had full character profiles for every name that appeared in addition to a detailed chronological story-board. And I had to forget that one miserable character. sighs  
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**Please do continue to be as generous and as supportive  
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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night **

**Chapter 13 **

_Dinner was where everything comes together. It was when the past crashed into the present, and where the present set the path for the future… –Jolly _

**_HBHBHB _**

**_47 _**

_Dear Lord, the past had caught up with them! _

That was the first thought that shot through Frank's mind the moment he stepped back into the dining room where he left Cal.

Before him was the face of a man he thought he'd never forget.

Yet forget he did over the course of six long years. And from the moment he knew his brother was still in the world of living, he forgot that face totally. _How could he?_ Frank berated himself as those painful memories again flashed before him. And now Callie might pay the price for his lapse…

The gunman was he; the man who lured him and Joe up the cliffs that stormy night so many years ago.

Now that man stood before him, a gun pressed firmly to Cal's temple, his red-rimmed and embittered eyes glaring daggers at them all. That man whose hunger for vengeance had led to Joe's fall from the cliffs into the stormy seas. The man who saved his life only to leave him living and grieving.

Frank never found out who that man was or what he and Joe did to make him so bitter and vengeful. That they killed his brother was the only clue Frank had from that fateful night. He had gone through the entire list of all his and Joe's and Dad's enemies who had a brother who died. There was only a handful of possible suspects, and none of them were anywhere near Bayport that night. None of them even fit the description he was able to provide.

"I see you remember me, Frank…" The man grated out in his hoarse and scratchy voice.

Frank let his eyes locked with Callie's for a short moment before turning his full attention to the man who held her captive by her throat. _Don't worry; I'll get you out of this unhurt_, he tried to tell her with his eyes.

His heart lightened when Cal returned a little smile.

"Why?" Frank queried curtly.

The man let out a half strangled cackle of a laugh, which was quickly followed by a series of dry wracking coughs. His grip on Callie tightened uncontrollably for an instant, causing her to struggle for breath.

Frank's eyes widened a little as he realized that man was sick. _Very sick_, Frank added, as he noted the thin gangly frame, the sallow skin and those large watery bright eyes that looked half crazed with pain.

_This does not bode well for Cal,_ Frank knew as he worked to hold the gunman's attention. Time, he needed to buy time. But time for what? He did not have anyone he could trust to make the moves as he play the distraction game. Then he saw from his peripheral vision that 'Paul' was stealthily making his way across the room, and his heart lifted just a little.

He continued playing the victim and pleaded with the gunman in controlled measured tones. "Is it not enough the pain you put us through? Why are you doing this? _Who are you?"_

"Enough? What do you know of pain? I grieve every day for him, I hurt every day… You guys sent my step brother to prison and he died in there. Do you even know his name? Or was he just another boy you sent to jail to make your name? Merrick Bowen died for trying to get some cash so I can continue getting my medical treatment." He spat out.

_Merrick Bowen? Who the heck was that? _

"But I even the score, didn't I. Your little brother slipped and fell into the Great South Bay and died; I did not even have to kill him." He gloated.

Frank flinched a little at that memory. He could still see his brother falling, falling, as he watched helplessly.

"For a while, I was satisfied. I watch you hurting, Frank. And that was fair enough for me." The gunman laughed.

_He was watching and we didn't even notice?! Of course not, we were grieving. I was grieving. _

And then his voice turned ugly. "But then you forgot… you forgot about your brother and carry on living… now you're happy again and planning to get married…"

"I never forgot my brother," Frank stated. "I chose to live on, for him."

The man ignored Frank and raged on, "how can you be happy when I still hurt?! No! You cannot be happy; you're not allowed to be happy! And I know exactly how to make sure that you'll never be happy again…"

His finger tightened on the trigger and Callie's eyes widened in terror.

"No!" Frank yelled as he leapt forward in a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable.

But someone step firmly before him and blocked his move.

The gunman froze. His pale face turned whiter. He looked shocked. He looked as if he saw a ghost. _He saw Joe_, it finally registered with Frank.

"You! You were supposed to be dead! I'll make sure you're dead this time." The man gasped in fear as he removed the gun from Callie's temple and aimed it instead at 'Joe'…

_No… _

And Frank realized he wasn't the only one who screamed that.

**_48 _**

I watched Frank distract the gunman as I slowly inched my way closer towards Callie from the side. I knew not why but I knew that was what I was supposed to be doing. It was as if I have done this before with Frank. He distracts, I moved. I distracts, he moved. It's a partnership thing.

It's common sense, right?

But now was not the time to speculate, Callie's life was at stake. I shove my personal questions aside and focused on the situation before me. I needed to get behind that guy. And quickly too!

Then I noted the change in tone and knew with a sinking heart that we're almost out of time. I was still too far away… but wait, was that someone in the shadows?

_Yes! _

"… make sure you'll never be happy again…" I heard the gunman raged and saw his fingers curled tighter around the trigger.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frank tensing to move forward and knew he would never make it.

_We're out of time. _

Still, there was one more thing I could try that might buy us all just enough time. The man in the shadows would definitely go for that opening which I could give him. I knew I looked like Joe, but would the gunman? After all, he did say he was somehow linked to Joseph's death. But that was a risky move. So, should I? Then I realized that was a moot point. I would never let anyone else be hurt if I knew I had even the tiniest chance of helping.

And for Frank, I knew I would do a lot more. I took a deep breath and step into the full view of the gunman. At the same time, I blocked Frank's forward leap. I could almost smile at Frank's frustration as he bumped into my back.

My gamble worked, somewhat.

Have you ever felt when a second in time dragged on and on, so packed with activities that it was as if it was a day that just happened?

The gunman froze for a second, and my long day begun.

That man in the shadows took the opening I provided, just as I expected. He made a flying tackle for that hand with the gun, which by then pointed right at me. I could feel my heart literally stopped when I stared into the dark barrel of that gun.

No, it did not stop. It pounded, harder than I ever remembered. I could almost feel my ribcage wincing in pain. I swore then and there I would never again step voluntarily into the path of an armed gun. Yet I knew as soon as the words formed in my mind, that I lied. I would do that again in an instant for any of my loved ones.

My eyed followed the actions of that man in the shadows as he jerked the gunman's gun hand upwards towards the ceiling. He did it! And by the time that gunman pulled the trigger, the bullet ricochet harmlessly into the ceiling above us. Bits of shattered cement rained down on me as I leapt forward and close the distance between me and Callie. I reached out with one hand to twist the wrist of the gunman that held Callie's throat captive, and used the other to pull her towards me and into my arms. Then I turn around to shield her with my body in case the gunman gets another chance at the gun.

I could only hope that no one was hurt.

The room went quiet, and the next second ticked by.

Then there were heavy breathing.

Soon the heavy breathing was punctuated by a pitiful moan. That was from the gunman. He was clutching his belly and groaning in pain. I could not help a tiny bit of sympathy. He was sick, and that blow must have hurt. But I could not make myself go over to help him. My anger towards him was still too strong.

He wanted to hurt Frank.

My own vehemence towards that fact surprised me. Why should that fact illicit that level of emotions in me? After all, I barely knew my dear cousin Frank and only just met Callie and Aunt Laura. And I knew from the dossier such happenings were not unexpected for this family since both father and son were engage in that dangerous profession.

Would I risk my family that way simply by choice of profession? I suddenly wondered.

Oh well, who was I kidding? I had to swallow a little laugh. I am already risking mine and Ehla's life. I supposed the difference was that both I and Ehla were equal partners when we made our decision to back the Consortium and their Cause. We made that choice together the day grandpa told us about it…

Something flickered at the back of my mind. Then that was gone, forgotten.

I frowned. What was I thinking? It could not be anything of importance if I could not remember. Somehow I knew I always remembered the important details. I was trained for that from the day I was born, I could almost attest to that…

I blinked furiously several times. I shook my head and felt like I lost something…

_What? _

"Good work, Joe…" A familiar voice roused me from my thoughts.

_Joe? _

I swiveled round to face the man talking to me. Dark reddish hair on a tanned kindly face with friendly hazel eyes smiled back at me. Then he suddenly looked apologetic.

"Sorry… you must be Paul, Frank's cousin." He said. "I'm Sam Radley, Fenton's partner and business associate."

Sam held out his hands. I stared at it for a moment before taking it.

_The room, the similarities… it's starting to freak me out… I'm starting to really dislike this Joe person. And I wished everyone would stop looking at me as if they were seeing a ghost… _

We exchanged a casual handshake. I noted that Sam's grip was firm, the handshake brief and definite. His hands were rough and calloused. The man before me had a strong character and was used to doing the real work rather than simply delegating. From his actions in saving Callie, I concluded that there was no question as to his affiliation to the Hardys. I knew instinctively I would have to keep him high on my watch list, especially where Frank was concerned.

I smiled and strike up a conversation with him. But what I really wanted to know was: why was he here this late on a Sunday evening?

**_49 _**

Frank held Callie close as he watched Sam secure the gunman with the ropes his mom provided. He could still feel Callie sobbing and trembling against his chest. She was clearly still in shock. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ehla holding on just as tightly to 'Paul'.

His heart was still pounding hard against his ribs. First he thought he's going to have to watch Callie get killed right before his eyes in his parents' dining room. Then, barely a minute later, he thought he was getting a ring-side seat to witnessing his brother's execution.

That was just far too much excitement for one night.

For a short moment, Frank buried his face in Callie's hair, and let the scent of her shampoo sooth away a part of his jagged nerves. He could hear his mother on the phone talking to the police. He was contented to let every one else handle the situation for a while.

That was a close call. Thank God Sam was here.

Then it hit Frank.

Sam came to their house; he did not wait for tomorrow morning.

Frank paled. It could only mean one thing. Something must have happened to Dad…

**_50 _**

We left for home very much later. We waited for the police to come and gave our statements before leaving.

I bid Aunt Laura a goodnight and promised that I would come visiting again soon. She looked most reluctant to let me leave. To be honest, I was a little reluctant to leave her too. She's very motherly. I missed that and I wanted that.

I let Ehla drove us home, and watched without seeing, the buildings and cars and street lights that flash by me.

My mind was busy trying to make sense of the multitude of events that happened this evening. There were just too many things that bothered me. I acknowledged that the answers could be simple. It could be a simple case of my amnesia. My memories go back only six years, and everything before that was a blank. That fact never really bothered me until tonight. I did felt that a part of me was incomplete at times. But I have had a happy life and had wanted for nothing.

Yet tonight…

My instinctive knowledge and familiarity with Bayport and the Hardy house bothered me. Yet I knew that there was a simple explanation. My mom and Laura were sisters and we lived in the States before moving to London. We probably visited each other's homes regularly.

Perhaps grandpa could give me some of the answers I seek. Surely he would know. I felt better knowing that there was still someone I could depend on for some general questions about my past. But I still wished my parents were still alive. They would able to tell me about my past, they would know.

I missed them.

I laughed a little at those thoughts. It did not take long for that smile to turn into a frown.

My uncanny resemblance to Joseph Hardy bothered me. But not as much as the fact that I felt I knew him very well, and that we shared many similar character straits and tastes. Right down to the specifics, like classic cars.

Then there was this fact that he died at about the time when I had my accident and suffered permanent amnesia. For some reason, I felt like he died so that I lived. Now, that was unreasonable, I know. But I just could not help a sense of guilt about that. It was as if God was flipping a coin to decide who had the right to live, and I won. So I lived and Joseph left.

Finally, there was this bit of information that was not in the dossier that I got today. That bothered me most of all. That gunman said that Joseph fell and died in the Great South Bay. That was where I got hurt and lost my past.

There were just too many strange occurrences and too many coincidences.

I shook my head to clear it of those morose thoughts.

Ehla shot me a concerned glance, and I told her I was fine and not to worry. She did not look convinced. Heck, even I am not convinced!

"This is a very exciting night, isn't it?" Ehla suddenly commented. "The dossiers aren't kidding when they said the Hardys had plenty of enemies. So many one had to make an appearance on the one night we chose to join them for dinner."

I simply shrugged and replied: "They are good at what they do."

Ehla was quiet for a moment. I could see her chewing her lower lips. She always does that when she was nervous or uneasy about something. I waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"You're really going to leave with Frank tomorrow?" She asked.

"Yes," I nodded. "Fenton's gone missing investigating my parents' death; it's really the least I could do to offer Frank whatever resources I could. It'll be easier flying around in our private jet rather than having to depend on commercial flight schedules. And I do want to know what really happened to mom and dad..."

"Do you think your grandpa would let you go?" She asked a little more hesitantly this time.

"He will have to. I'm not going to let Frank head over there alone!" That protective tone in my voice surprised me and I hastily added. "I certainly want to know who killed my father, and he can't tell me that he's not interested in who murdered his son."

Ehla nodded, but I could see that she was still concerned about something.

"Don't worry, love. Worse come to worse, grandpa's going to insist I take Albert along with me. And I could also take the opportunity to touch base with some of our European shipping clients and consortium members while flying around Europe. It'll be a work and more work trip…"

"Can I come along?" Ehla suddenly cut in.

Without waiting for me to answer, she blabbered on, and I knew something was really bothering her.

"I mean, dear, that I would love visit London. You know, to go back to our old haunts and remember the old days. Visit our old professors back in Oxford and such…" Ehla's voice slowly faded off as she resumed chewing her lower lips.

I smiled, and that smile grew wider as I remembered some of those happy moments. I turned to watch her drive. I noted how the light from the streets illuminated her face, shining through her soft brown hair giving it a soft glow surrounding her head like a golden halo. Suddenly I felt a little guilty. So much had happened in the last five months since my parents died. The grieving, the recovering, giving up on our jobs and moving over to the States, settling into a new place, getting new jobs, and then finally learning about the consortium.

It had been a very intense period of our lives.

She needed a break away from all that. It would be lovely having her along. And perhaps I could sneak in a bit of fun and throw in some romance somewhere, just for her. She deserves it.

"Of course! I would love to have you come along." Then my smile turned mischievous. "And perhaps we could bring Frank to some of our old haunts and convinced him that some of the whacky stories we told today were true."

Ehla laughed and I joined her. It was good to see her looking more relaxed now. And a sweet happy smile now graced her face as she drove. I could happily watch that serene smile forever.

Then suddenly that smile faded off and she turned serious.

"You know something else, Paul? For a moment I was really scared that you were going with Frank just to get closer to him…"

I turned and stared at her, shocked. But she was right, that would have been scary. I felt suddenly chilled as I acknowledged a certain truth in her words, that I could have done exactly what she said.

Yes, we could have done just that.

I looked into her eyes for a moment and saw the same fear there; the knowledge that we've changed somewhat, that joining the consortium had changed us somehow.

And that change might not be for the better.

At the next red light, I reached over and gave her a quick tight hug. It was a hug that felt somewhat desperate. Perhaps that trip back home to London was just what we needed to touch base with our old selves again.

"I won't change, I promised." I whispered into her ear. "We've never believed in ends justifying means, and we'll never stoop down that low, ever."

Then the light turned green, and life carries on.

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**Please review and comment... and there's always the pm function and email if you are shy...  
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	15. Chapter 14

_The next bit._

_If this is a book proper, this chapter would be the start of the second part of the story - where the brothers get to work together to unravel the Trident faction. The thirid part will deal with the final confrontation with the the consortium led by Schwarz.  
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_Posting this bit just to see if anyone's still reading. I am still trying to decide if I should try for a Typhoon run (this story) or a Halloween run (Gingerbread house part 2) from Aug to Oct. Will also post next bit of Gingerbread, and decide base on reviews, I think. For all I know, no one's reading any of these two anymore :)_

_This is a short start to part two. Pls enjoy, and let me know if you're still reading. Cheers._

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**I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night**

**Chapter 14**

_雨过天晴_

_After the rains, the sky is beautifully clear._

**_HBHBHB_**

**_51_**

Early the next morning, Frank found himself seated next to 'Paul' in the privacy of the shipping mogul Reginald Schwarz's very spacious and posh office. He watched in fascination the tightly controlled yet highly charged riposte between the grandfather and the 'grandson'. His respect for this matured version of his brother grew as it became clear that the older man was slowly giving ground.

"You really want to go and look into the matter in person," Reginald Schwarz said.

"Yes." Paul responded. "I want to know what happened to my parents."

The two of them glared at each other, their lips set into a grim line.

Even Frank had to admit from the way their stances mirrored each other, they looked very much grandfather and grandson. But they were not, Frank reminded himself as he forced himself to calmly await the outcome of that argumentative discussion. He knew by then that 'Paul' would get his way. His brother always gets his way at the end of the day. Almost always…

"Please, grandpa, understand that Uncle Fenton disappeared because he was looking into my parents' death," 'Paul's' tone softened as he switched track and started to appeal personally and emotionally to his grandfather. "There can be no clearer indication that foul play was involved. And I want to… no I need to know who murdered my parents and why. And don't tell me you are not interested in who killed your son and daughter in law? And the Hardys are our relatives. It's only right that we help them…"

"All right." Reginald Schwarz cuts in, gesturing imperiously with his right hand telling his grandson to keep quiet.

'Paul' fell silent out of respect as well as at the curtness of his grandfather's tone. But his posture remain tense and slightly aggressive, indicating that he was more than ready to pick up the argument where he left off.

"All right," Reginald Schwarz repeated in a softer and more resigned tone. "And you're right, we should help them."

'Paul' relaxed visibly.

"You may take the corporate jet," Reginald Schwarz continued most reluctantly. "But file ALL expenses under my personal account. It will not be fair to our shareholders otherwise."

"Thanks, Grandpa," 'Paul answered gratefully.

Reginald Schwarz slumped back into his leather seat. Suddenly, the shipping mogul was gone, and in its place an old grandfather worried for his grandson.

"I want to know what happened too, Paul," Grandpa Reg said softly.  
But…"

"I will be very careful, Grandpa," 'Paul' promised. "And I have Frank to help watch my back."

"I am still of the opinion that the better option is for us to hire private detectives and let the professionals handle this situation," Grandpa Reg said and again waved his hand to forestall his grandson's protests. "But I can understand why you would like to see to this personally…"

"I know you'd understand, grandpa."

For a moment, both stared into each other's eyes. Then both pair of blue eyes softened. And then both smiled.

"Just be careful, all right?" Grandpa said.

"I will," the grandson promised.

Frank watched with some envy that closeness between the two. Once he shared that and more with Joe. And he wanted that back again. This makes it imperative that he gets to the bottom of the entire mystery behind Nigel's and Sarah's death, and with that, the reason behind those who wanted his brother dead.

"Now, Paul, there're a couple of things I'd like you to look into while you're over in Europe…" Grandpa Reg was sounding all business-like and formal again.

Fifteen minutes later, all three of them were still in the room.

"…And you will take the opportunity to run a random check at our new shipyard in Norway…"

By now, Frank was getting a little impatient. It was clear that old man Schwarz was rattling on and on from a seemingly endless list that Frank was convinced the old man was creating on the fly.

"Grandpa… Grandpa!" 'Paul' interrupted in a mildly exasperated tone. "Any more items on the to-do list, and I won't even have time to eat and sleep, much less work on finding out what happened to my parents and my uncle!"

Reginald Schwarz looked as if he was surprised to find himself cut off. Then he chuckled. "Can't blame an old man for trying…"

"No, I can't," 'Paul' replied with an affectionate smile. "But we really have to get going…"

Reginald Schwarz turned to Frank.

"Take good care of my grandson," he ordered brusquely.

"I will," Frank promised solemnly. But not for the reason you think, he added quietly to himself.

"Go!" Reginald Schwarz suddenly ordered. "Before I change my mind…"

And he watched as the two young men quietly and respectfully made their way out of his office.

The heavy wooden door clicked quietly closed, leaving Reginald alone in his personal domain. Or so it seemed.

A wooden panel in the posh office slides quietly aside, revealing a small hidden chamber. An elderly lady emerged from a very comfortable seat from within.

"You heard everything," Schwarz stated.

"Yes," she replied.

"Everything happened as you said it would… minus that near death disaster at the Hardy home last night."

"Yes, so it did," Yates answered with a satisfied smile. "The elder will re-acquaint the younger with the skills he used to have."

"Minus that near death incident at the Hardy home last night," Schwarz added curtly.

"You know we can't control every element in real life," Yates shrugged casually. "What matters is the fact that both of them got out of that potentially deadly confrontation on their own. Furthermore, we know that Paul was never in any danger. Albert had his sniper on that psycho all the while."

Reginald too a moment to digest what Yates said, and went through what was currently being planned.

"You are very confident that those two can bring down the Trident faction," Schwarz stated.

"Yes I am," Yates replied. "Paul, or Joseph, will have Frank to help him. The two brothers worked well together because their skill set complemented each other's. And Fenton does have his connections."

"The Trident faction, under Krycek, has grown rather powerful in the recent years."

"They have, but by selling out and betraying our Cause. They have no vision, only a selfish hunger for self-gain and power," Yates stated with mild distaste before asking. "But I have faith in your chosen heir. Don't you?"

"I do have faith in my choice of heir," Schwarz answered. "It's the other I'm concerned about."

"Ah, you mean Frank? He can become a problem later," Yates acknowledged. "But I am confident Paul can handle that when the time comes."

"I hope you're right, my lady Yates," Schwarz muttered under his breath. "I certainly hope you're right."


End file.
